


Life As We Know It

by Stickyouinawormhole13



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exes, Family, Family Feels, Gay Keith (Voltron), Hurt Keith (Voltron), If you notice all the Angst tags then boiii you have no idea, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith and Shiro are Siblings, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Kidfic, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Langst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Orphan Keith (Voltron), References to Depression, Single Parent!Lance, Single Parents, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), You Have Been Warned, probably humor, slightly a lot more modern than it is lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-02-05 10:47:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 137,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12792957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stickyouinawormhole13/pseuds/Stickyouinawormhole13
Summary: Lance led a pretty simple life. It wasn't amazing, but he's still working on that. He had a good job. Two awesome best friends. A huge loving family. What more could he ask?When he unexpectedly becomes a dad, Lance realizes things will never be simple ever again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I just watched HIMYM and that Barney and Ellie Stinson scene broke me. So I don't own the quote, HIMYM writers do. So I'm going to put the quote here which is a good summary of this story. 
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> **“You are the love of my life. Everything I have and everything I am is yours. Forever."**  
>   
>  ****  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank my wonderful and beautiful editor and BETA pal: [galaxy-gayrisson](https://galaxy-gayrrison.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you, hon! You made my life so much easier :D
> 
> and making this story actually make sense LOL
> 
> Go check out this amazing person!

 

You could say Lance had led a pretty simple life. He was comfortable and secure. He had a decent paying job that could accommodate his day-to-day expenses. He went to a prestigious university. He had his fair share of over-night studying and failures, but balanced out with his determination and confidence. He had two awesome best friends, a tech child genius and a big cuddly teddy-bear engineer who could make a mean gingersnap cookie.

 

He had the biggest and best kind of family. Lance definitely thanked whatever god gave him them. They were the type of family who comforted you from an ex who broke up with you after sticking his tongue down your throat behind the dirty alleyway of a McDonalds with a tub of chocolate mint from Ben and Jerry’s. They were the type of family who gave each other silly nicknames from childhood that would turn into a permanent name in their household. 

 

They were the type of family who wrestled each other to be Yoshi in Mario Kart. They were the type of family who listened to your woes and insecurities and maybe I’m not good enoughs, and then proceeded to shower you with compliments. They were the type who would drive you to 711 and have an argument between Hot Pockets and Pizza pockets. They were the type who would join in your crazy shenanigans and ultimately leave you to face the wrath of Mama’s Chancla.

 

 

Lance had a pretty simple life. Sure, he was single as fuck, but what else was new?

 

 

Lance kept fiddling his tie, adjusting it with clumsy fingers. It was blue with gold trimming, his mother said it matched his eyes, but Lance begged to differ. It was some sort of fancy noose tied around his neck. He wore a neatly pressed and ironed suit. His shoes polished enough to see his own reflection. Hair slicked back to prevent his bangs from framing his face. Lance felt stuffy in his suit, but goddamn, he looked hot in it, both in a figurative and literal sense. Seriously, whose idea was it to have a wedding on the beach in the middle of the hottest weather in the entire universe?

 

His sister, that’s who. His whiny and stupid sister, Delilah McClain.

 

Lance didn’t like to play favourites. Being in a middle child, he could see the problems and insecurities that was behind that. Although he could say he was plenty close to his sister. They were only a few years apart and more or less shared similar complexions; The freckled tanned-skin and blue eyes combo. They both shared the staggering confidence and both were a force to be reckoned with. Most people often mistake them for being twins. Delilah vehemently denied this and she constantly praised whatever god that she was older child because she couldn’t share a womb with him. She would have been driven crazy by him before she even had her first gasp of air. Which was, by the way, Rude. Lance liked to say she was was still crazy and it was a goddamn miracle that Mike proposed to her.

 

“It’s like he has some death wish,” Lance said, still fidgeting with his too-tight tie.

 

Delilah glared at him from her reflection on the mirror. She wore a classic white gown with long sleeves that covered her skin with frosty snowflakes. Her skirt pooling around her feet in a sea of lace and silk. His brother’s wife, Camila, was fixing her long hair into an elegant updo.

 

“You’re just jealous that I have a good and healthy relationship with a hot guy,” she said, pouting at him. She inhaled a huge breath and let it out shakily breath, her blue eyes widening. “And I’m marrying him, oh my god.”

 

Camila chuckled at her expression, her fingers weaving braids, “That you are.”

 

“Shit. What if he’s making a mistake? What if I’m making a mistake? Oh my god, what if I back out at the last minute and I will forever be a runaway bride who will never ever be in another committed relationship because of this fact! Fuck, fuck, what if he realizes I’m not marriage material and dumps me!? I can’t live being divorced, I really can’t!”

 

“Calm your tits, sister,” Lance drawled, inwardly cheering his victory of taming the wild snake of a tie. He could have been some sort of tie-whisperer. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be swearing on your big day.”

 

“I can do whatever I fucking please because it is my big day,” she said, her tone cold. Ice didn’t melt.

 

“Besides, the only crazy Mike is that he’s crazy in love with you,” Lance said, and let out four fingers. “If he could put up with your cuckoo-ness for four years, and I’m sure the guy can handle you for the rest of his life.”

 

Camila glanced at him, sort-of impressed. “That’s one way to say it, in a Lance-like-way.”

 

Lance gaped at her, and pressed a hand on his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean? And you were my favourite sister-in-law.”

 

She raised a thin eyebrow at him. “I’m your only sister-in-law.”

 

“Psh, don’t be bitter. Daisy is my new favourite.”

 

“She’s a poodle.”

 

“And we had a backyard wedding for her and Juan-Carlos.”

 

“I thought we agreed to call him Juankie?” Delilah interjected, referring to their Pomeranian. 

 

 

“You thought wrong,” Lance said, flicking her ear. She swatted his arm in return.

 

Camila rolled her eyes at them and with a finishing touch, she place a shimmering butterfly pin on the side of her hair. Lance would never ever say this to her face, but she looked like Cinderella. Although, she had a bigger ego than Lance and he would be doing the world a favour by not feeding it.

 

“I’m just saying, I could totally run right now,” she said, popping a pocky into her mouth. Leave it to his sister to eat while she gets dolled up to perfection. “No one could stop me. I can run in heels.”

 

“Those are just pre-wedding jitters,” Camila said, setting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I mean, I almost ran out on Danny.”

 

“Really?” Delilah said, very surprised at this revelation.

 

“Yeah, I was climbing out the window,” she winced, the memory coming back to haunt her. “I almost ripped my dress from my attempt.”

 

Lance laughed, also recalling that day. “Danny is no different, he was half-way into going down the fire escape. We had to lure him with Hunk’s cupcakes.”

 

Camila gaped, “I did not know that.”

 

Lance averted his eyes, scuffling in his position. “Uuhhh—you weren’t supposed to know that.”

 

Camila gave him a quick smile. She clasped the pearl necklace around Delilah’s slender neck. “I am going to have a little chat with him later.”

 

She left the room, saying that she was going to get the bridal bouquet and left the two siblings in the room. There was a few seconds of silence before Delilah started spewing out more nonsense.

 

“Lance, I-I… I was serious,” she said, glancing at him nervously. She fidgeted in her seat, pulling at the sleeves of her dress.

 

“With what?” He settled his hands on her dainty shoulders. She immediately relaxed under his touch. Her hand clenching and unclenching, embedding half-moons into the palms of her hands.

 

“I’m scared.”

 

“There’s no need to be scared, Lala. The dude is completely in love with you for some reason and you love him in return.”

 

“What if he realises that everything is totally wrong? What if things do turn wrong along the way? I-I don’t know. Lance, we were dating through our entire college life, and we all know that most relationships like that don’t stay that long. We’re like in love of our own younger selves. He’s going to figure out that I’m not some cool girl because, to be honest that kind of girl doesn’t exist! He’s going to be like why the fuck did I marry some crazy high maintenance bitch?”

 

Wow, and Lance thought he had the worst inferiority complex.

 

“Lala, think about it for a second. Mike spent like almost a century with you, lived in a tiny studio apartment, and a cute cat. The guy is a crazy bastard for marrying you, but if he’s able to put up with you with you that long, then he's in it for the long run, dearest sister.” Lance said, squeezing her shoulders. Delilah placed her hand on top of his.

 

“I…Uh…um.”

 

“So basically, he chose you,” Lance said as he patted her shoulder, "it's kinda like using the crappy  Pokemons. Could have been a Pikachu, but turned out to be a Feebas."

 

She rolled her eyes. 

 

"But the Feebas does evolve into a Milotic," Lance said reassuringly. "The prettiest Pokemon."

 

 

“Lance, what do you even know about these kinds of things? No offence, but you’ve had some really shitty relationships.”

 

“None taken,” Lance said, not really affected. It’s not first time someone’s told him this. He had grown immune to similar statements. “I can see it in his eyes. I’m pretty good in reading people.”

 

“Yet you’re in incredibly dense with people’s feelings towards you,” she said flatly, “It’s like you purposely do it.”

 

“Huh!?” Lance said mockingly, and Delilah had to slap him for that. In truth, Lance did sometimes pretend to be dense in emotional situations. Call him a coward or stupid, it was his own way of avoiding problems. Everything liked to shit on Lance for being dumb and he was just going to roll with it. Someday he was going to successful, get his dream job and finally shit on those people who’s called him dumb in the first place.

 

“Ah! Lance, quit it,” she said, sighing exasperatedly. “I’m serious.”

 

“So am I.”

 

“Okay, then what does it say? What do those deep set of honey brown eyes say when they look at me?” she said as she dramatically set a hand on her chest, looking at him expectantly.

 

He pondered for a bit, a silence stretched momentarily. He looked at his sister’s amused face. He was suddenly hit with wave of memories, crashing down to him like an ocean’s drop. From childhood to awkward pre-teens to graduations and to joyful celebrations. He recalled the small sandbox in their parent’s backyard that held youthful adventures and dreamy aspirations. The old rickety tree house that held quiet whispers, breathy declarations, and deep secrets. The beach near the edge of their sleepy yet lively town that held their drunken endeavours, the smell of burning wood and booze, and the comfort of handmade quilts draped over their shoulders. The painted picture frame that displayed their whacky family who couldn’t focus for their life and just ended being a cacophony of their individual qualities. It was a mess, but it was their mess. The picture was a middle piece in their mantle which held numerous photographs like first steps, birthdays, and sports championships.

 

Lance looked at her with a soft gaze and he could see her change underneath that white gown, underneath her skin. In that quiet and completely vulnerable moment, he cut all his bullshit and finally saw his sister eye to eye. He knew exactly what to say.

 

“You are the love of my life," Lance told his sister. "Everything I have and everything I am is yours. Forever.”

 

Delilah blinked at him.

 

“That's surprisingly deep,” she breathed out, and gently squeezed her brother’s hand. “You should re-write my vows.”

 

Lance scoffed and whacked the back of her head. “Way to ruin the mood. You wish!”

 

“Watch the hair, you idiot!”

 

“You can’t call me an idiot when I gave you legitimately good advice!”

 

They both growled at each other. Delilah yanked his tie down, bringing him into her level. She brought down her fist into his skull, rubbing it harshly, ruining his perfectly combed hair. Lance squawked under her strong hold. He kept thumping his fist into her arm. It was not his fault if the bride had bruises on her arm. Foundation was invented for a reason.

 

When Camila returned, she couldn’t say she was surprised to see the siblings in another heated scuffle as Lance struggled to extract himself from Delilah’s inhuman strength. She merely counted one to ten, a practice she learned from one of her yoga classes, and then cleared her throat to announce her presence.

 

The two siblings halted their actions, whipping their heads to the woman in front of them. One hand propped on her hip while the other held the bouquet of blue hydrangeas and white peonies.

 

At the same time, they both pointed at each other and said,

 

“She did it.”

 

“He did it.”

 

Camila merely shook her head, but mirth was in her eyes. “I can’t believe I married into this family.”

 

Delilah scoffed, pursing her lips. “Cami, you don’t need to lie. You love us. If you hadn’t, you wouldn't have popped out those adorable and beautiful little angels of yours.”

 

Camila grimaced and muttered, “More like little devils.”

 

Lance also shared the same sentiment, flinging his arms into the air. “I don’t know what Danny was thinking of getting four—“

 

“Five,” Camila corrected, rubbing the evident swell on her belly.

 

“—Kids. You’d think after sharing a bathroom with six other siblings would be enough to scare him from getting a litter of those rascals,” he said wryly.

 

Camila chuckled at him, smiling like a glowing pregnant woman she is, “Danny misses the noise of a hectic family and I actually like being pregnant.”

 

Lance looked at her dully, very unimpressed with her statement. “That's because you’re nice and pretty and totally not like a monster when mama was pregnant. It was like The Exorcist and The Grudge in one setting; Weird midnight appetites, cranky attitude, and those depressing moans she lets out,” he shivered with haunted eyes. “I probably still have a sandal-shaped imprint on my ass.”

 

Somewhere, a plump Latina woman went rigid, pausing her conversation with her eldest daughter, Esperanza. The girl looked at mother confusedly, their conversation reaching to a very unexpected end.

 

“I have this very strong urge to hit your brother,” she said, furrowing her eyebrows.

 

Esperanza, or as she was lovingly called Nessie, returning it with a loving ‘I can not believe that you nicknamed me after the Lochness freaking monster’, stared at her with a strange look, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

 

“Ah, I’m going to go check on Delilah,” she said, putting her clipboard under her arm, and excused herself while muttering darkly, “Voy a matar a esos idiotas.”

 

 

When she entered the room, she ducked immediately from an incoming projectile aiming her way. She glanced at the object which was a simple hair brush. She returned her gaze to the duo and let out a very, very tired sigh. Once again, the two were arguing over most likely something stupid and irrelevant. She gripped her clipboard. They reminded her of their elementary years, Lance pulling on Delilah’s pigtails and Delilah holding Lance into a tight head lock, rubbing her fist furiousiously into his skull. 

 

Camila, who was a few feet away from them, looked like an exhausted mother who was weakly scolding her obnoxious children.

 

Nessie face palmed.

 

Lance was turning blue from the lack of air and Delilah was turning red from rage.

 

Talk about a Bridezilla.

 

“When I thought you were going to be a blushing bride,” Nessie said, with a hint of sarcasm and a side of tart, “I didn’t exactly picture this.”

 

Delilah, like mature grown up woman she is, stuck out her tongue at her.

 

“Nice one, sis,” Lance commented, high five-ing her.

 

Nessie wanted to slam the clipboard to her face. Repeatedly.

 

She flitted her eyes over the room, noticing the lack of a particularly short young boy. “Have you guys seen Darwin?”

 

Lance snorted, “He’s probably hiding underneath the buffet table. He’s still mad that you made him the flower boy.”

 

“Bella was really crushed that you chose him over her,” she grimaced, recalling the four-year-old’s tantrum when she had found out the grim news.

 

“That wasn't my fault,” Nessie defended and stared pointedly at the smirking Delilah, “I had to fulfill the wishes of the bride.”

 

She only shrugged in response.

 

Nessie groaned at her behaviour. “Are you still hung over that he melted your Mac lipstick in the microwave?”

 

Delilah glared at her, seemingly offended. “That was the last shade in stock!”

 

“Get over it, he's a kid.”

 

“He’s thirteen.”

 

Nessie disregarded that very valid point and decided to end the argument there. “I’m going trust your judgement, Lance.” And then promptly left the room while sputtering angry Spanish curses.

 

Camila gave the bouquet to Delilah, and a wink. She left the two alone in the room to scavenge her little ones.

 

“And then there were two,” Lance commented.

 

“What am I going to do?” Delilah moaned morosely, collapsing onto the vanity, jostling perfume bottle and assortments of makeup. Lance discreetly slipped the Sephora gift card into his pocket and then patted gently on his sister’s back.

 

She immediately leaped in his arms, embracing him into a bone-crushing hug, and squeezing her way to the area between his neck and shoulder. Lance quickly thought of her red lipstick staining in suit, but there were more pressing matters on hand such as keeping his sister’s sanity in check.

 

“I’m going to throw up.”

 

“Just don’t do it on me and you’re going to be just fine.” Lance rubbed soothing circles on her back. She pounded a fist onto his chest in response, eliciting a grunt from him. “You said that when we went on that death trap of a roller coaster.”

 

“It wasn’t that bad.”

 

Delilah pulled away from their embrace to give a Lance a flat look. “I threw up my chilli fries on Danny. And he wore white!”

 

Lance recoiled in disgust, trying to destroy that image. The trip to Disney World was going really swell up until that point. “Well, at least he got a free t-shirt out of it.”

 

Delilah groaned, looking a little green. She kept shooting glances at the wide-open window, s whether or not was too late to make a run for it. Somehow, with Lance’s crappy pep talk and weird metaphors, he still couldn’t convey the right message. He was beginning to sound like his father. It didn’t help that he was already on verge of having a widow’s peak. Lance grabbed her hand, keeping her away from chewing her french-tipped nails.

 

“Do you love him?”

 

“What?” she replied, gaping at him. “Are you stupid?”

 

“Do you love him?”

 

“Wha—Of course I do!” she cried, swinging her bouquet around, nearly hitting Lance with the the flowers. “I love him so much and I want to spend the rest of my life with him—it’s dumb how in love I am with him, like wow. Nice one Delilah, you’re obsessing over your boyfriend—or husband, I guess.”

 

“Well, taking your roller coaster experience, you could say your life could be one big roller coaster.”

 

“That is so cheesy, you disgust me.”

 

“Oh my god, shut up,” he said, pulling her ear. He took in one huge breath, and prepared for his heartfelt and cringey as hell speech that could possibly finally convince his sister from having a panic attack…or leaving that perfectly good man who actually tolerates her. He was a catch, and Lance knew his sister deserve that much. “So. let’s say walking the aisle is that long line where you have to talk to this really bored teen to let you in the ride. You’re in and now climbing up, reaching the peak and you drop. You want to puke. There’s ups and down, unexpected turns and never-ending loop de loops. Then, you’re at the point where you decide what gave you the idea to even embark this dumb ride in terminal velocity. You never knew it could be this scary, this sudden speed that sends you into a whiplash. 

 

“So, you’re gripping for dear life, and yeah, it freaking sucks! But it’s worth it because you are gripping for dear life, which is Mike who is also probably scared shitless and screaming, but it doesn’t matter. You’re together, you’re facing this fear-inducing ride. He’s by your side, never letting go, and he does this because he values you and loves you a shit-ton despite you breaking his eardrums with your high-pitched yowling.

 

“He’s in it because when he looks at you, insert that thing I said a while ago, he looks at you sees you with wind mussed hair, face red with anger and terror and he thinks that he loves this woman and you look back at him. Then everything disappears, you forget the fear, you forget the insecurities and problems that would inevitably be part of this roller coaster called marriage, because oh, that’s why. You’re why. I’m just hanging there because you’re worth every damn thing.”

 

Lance takes huge gulps of oxygen after his spiel, heaving his chest and for some reason, he can feel the heavy weight off him.

 

Delilah was looking at him, full-on crying, eyes glazed and red in the rims. Tears staining her cheeks, thanking the gods for waterproof mascara. Lance heard her sniffles and he was reminded of their younger selves again. He comforted her with every step of the way. Snot-nosed children becoming sobbing adults because that was how it was. You wake up and you’re all grown up and realise that shit just got real.

 

“You just made me cry, what the hell!” she shrieked, hitting his chest repeatedly and it’s futile because she fought like a hamster. “Why aren’t you married yet!? I am completely baffled how no one can love you unconditionally when you say these things!”

 

“Is this your way of saying thank you?” Lance said, scratching the back of his head, slightly embarrassed.

 

“Yes! Thank you, little brother.” She sniffled, wrapping her arms around him. Lance could feel the burn behind his eyes and he allows one tear escape. “You…just know what to say.”

 

“The chicks dig it,” Lance said, shrugging. He sent her a wolfish grin. “You know one of your bridesmaid is pretty hot.”

 

“I am not going to introduce Donna to you.”

 

“Damn.”

 

She wiped her running nose with her sleeve, taking several breaths, calming her heart. “What about that guy in school, Kevin?”

 

“Keith,” Lance corrected with a slightly dampened mood. “Nah, we ended things.”

 

“The self-proclaimed rival, right?” she replied, smirking at him. Lance felt heat creeping into his cheeks.

 

“Wha-what! It is a mutual rivalry for your information. He pisses me off so much, it’s—he drives me nuts!”

 

“This is the same guy who didn’t know you existed,” she commented.

 

“Yeah, still a bit bitter about that bit,” he said grimly.

 

“Cheer up, little brother,” she said, pinching his cheek, “There’s someone out there.”

 

“Yeah, I’m going to stick with the silly ole’ uncle Lance.”

 

“Or tio Lance,” she giggled.

 

“Hm, it does have a nice ring to it,” he said, pondering over the title. He did like it a lot. “Anyhow! this isn’t about me, this all you, big sister.”

 

A long comfortable silence ensued, just two sibling staring like the hot mess they are.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey,” Lance replied.

 

“I’m getting married,” she said, grinning. The beaming smile they all inherited from their mother. Lips spread wide, teeth bared and a small show of gums, freckles in clear display and nose flushed a light red. Eyes sparkled from tears and happiness. The epitome of beauty. If possible, she smiled even wider, which probably bordered on painful, “I’m getting married!”

 

“Consider yourself marriage achievement unlocked,” he winked, shooting her finger guns. She in return did the same, both bursted out in laughter.

 

Delilah glance at the window, instead of panic, she had a wistful look. The sunlight kissed her skin, creating a golden halo around her head. The butterfly pin glinting brightly and she looked straight out of an enchanting fairy tale.

 

“Before you let Dad in, would you wanted to do the honours?” She said, grabbing the veil and placing it in his hands.

 

Lance stared at it, shaking his head playfully, “Did you even have to ask, troll?”

 

“Put the damn thing on already, loser.”

 

Delilah bowed her head, her lashes touching her cheekbones like thin and fragile butterfly legs. Lance delicately place the crown on her and flipped the veil. He adjusted and took in her appearance, her final look before she steels herself for the inevitable.

 

“Hey, ugly.”

 

“What is it, forehead?” she asked with a thin eyebrow raised.

 

“You look beautiful,” he said softly.

 

She blinked at him owlishly, staring at him with glassy eyes, and a watery tight-lipped smile broke out. Her bottom lip wobbling to keep her sobs at bay. She punched his arm, and shook her head. Her cheeks flared in rosy tint and her laughter ringing like silver bells.

 

“There’s that blushing bride.”

 

 

 

.

.

.

 

 

The reception was an absolute shit-show. The twins, Margot and Connor playfully dubbed Maggot and Coco, shared a speech together, both fighting for the mic and ultimately reduced in a tearful mess. Mama Celestine was very unimpressed that they somehow snuck in one of wine bottles from the cooler. At one point Darwin, the youngest McClain sibling, got tangled in the fairy lights, falling over, tipping a table that house the Sanchez family. His nine cousins glared at him, all dropping their goopy carbonara on his fallen form.

 

Lance said  a very short speech, exhausted his entire vocabulary and ideas from convincing Delilah to step out the damn doors and walk the freaking aisle. He was hammered, and so did not calculate the force of his butterknife sent to his wine glass from his toast. It shattered into a million tiny pieces. The red wine spilled and soaked his shirt, it blossomed quickly all over the white fabric. Mama sucked in a breath, and mouthed La Chancla. His father gulped his glass in one second and popped open the top button of his shirt, his face flushed.

 

His best friends guffawed from their table. Pidge cackling and struggle with her phone which was recording the scene. Hunk was turning a little purple. Shay patted his back, her face skewered in concern. Allura was giggling in her seat, hiding a smile behind her hand. Matt’s booming laughter was heard despite the band playing. His glasses were falling off his face and Allura kept pulling it up to his nose.

 

“Um, so, like…Here’s Nessie.” He shoved the microphone. She regarded him with a grimace. Her speech was the most worded and heart-felt in the night… she ended it with a wise quote. She smiled softly to her sister who was full-on bawling, her husband petting her hair softly as he chuckled.

 

Lance yelled because he liked being rude when he was drunk.“You got that from a Facebook post! Be original, you wench!”

 

“Alejandro Lancito Charles Sanchez McClain, dios mio, if you don’t shut up in this instant,” his mother growled, and everyone in the immediate vicinity snorted at his lengthy name, “I will personally whoop your ass.”

 

Darwin gasped loudly, “Mama said ass.”

 

Coco rolled his eyes, picking up a enchilada from his plate, “He doesn’t even have an ass.”

 

“I heard that, you little shit!” Lance proclaimed, and threw a meatball to his face.

 

And it started one huge food fight.

 

(The following day, Lance had the worst hangover and a giant sandal-shaped bruise on his left ass cheek.)

 

Delilah was in front of them all, wearing the most beautiful smile. A ukulele in her hands, fingers poised on the strings. "I'd like to dedicate this song to the love of my life, Mike."

 **“You are the love of my life,"**  she repeated, settling her gaze on her husband. Eyes soft and filled with so much emotions.  **"Everything I have and everything I am is yours.”**

" _Hold me close and hold me fast. This magic spell you cast,_ " she sang, _"This is la vie en rose..."_

_"When you kiss me, heaven sighs and though I close my eyes, I see la vie en rose..."_

_"When you press me to your heart, I'm in a world apart. A world where roses bloom..."_

_And when you speak, angels, sing from above. Everyday words seem to turn into love songs. Give your heart and soul to me and life will always be...La vie en rose."_

 

  
When the toasting and dinner was over, the music started to play that one cliché wedding song that Lance totally forgot the lyrics to. It didn’t really matter anyways. He ended up making out with the best man behind a tree, away from the loud cluster of people. Forget Donna, the dude had a six pack and really soft Thor-like hair.

 

Coco begrudgingly handed ten dollars to his smug twin sister. “Damn it.”

 

“You have no faith in papa,” Margot chuckled, eyeing their blubbering father as he danced with Delilah. She was laughing, her gown swishing with every movement.  “He prepared for this moment. I’ve seen him binging on father and daughter dances in YouTube.”

 

“It was a one minute difference!” Coco whined.

 

Darwin was doing an awkward attempt of doing the robot by the sidelines, changing his stance with every flicker of the strobe lights. A couple of girls looked impressed, surprisingly.

 

The Thor-look-alike was biting his ear, and whispered. “You’re so fucking hot.”

 

Lance smirked. Hell yeah he was.

 

 

 

.

.

.

 

 

You could say Lance led a pretty simple life. He was comfortable and secure. He had an amazing job that could accommodate his day-to-day expenses. He had a earned his degree and leased a decent apartment. He learned to do his taxes.

 

He had his fair share of declined propositions and bad break-ups, but balanced out with his determination and confidence.

 

He had two awesome best friends, a tech-savvy genius computer programmer and a big cuddly teddy-bear aerospace engineering baker who could make a mean gingersnap cookie with an equally as loving and sweet girlfriend.

 

He has the biggest and best kind of family. Lance definitely thanked whatever god gave him them. He was grateful just like that. They were the type of family who went to your graduation, yelling the loudest when you made your valedictorian speech, the type who you went bar-hopping in celebration of a job promotion and carrying your drunk ass into the car. The type who planned a surprise baby-shower and made their awesome baker-best friend to whip out the best honey-lemon cake. The type where you babysit 24/7 for free. The type who cried when you left for long trips out the country. The type who threaten to cut the person who broke your heart. The type who do everything to embarrass you in front of your crush.

 

They were the type of people who would be there for you no matter what. 

 

Lance had a pretty simple life. Sure, he was still single as fuck, but what else was new?

 

Life went on, as if time never passed at all. Life was measured by memories, cherished moments, and seasons.

 

In short, Lance led a simple life.

 

 

 

 

.

.

.

 

 

 

 

Until he didn’t.

 

 

 

.

.

.

 

 

“So you’re a dancer?”

 

The woman in front of him smiled coyly, twisting a lock of silvery-blonde hair. Her lips painted a blood-red. A dark dress loosely fitting her body with a deep dipping neck-line that artfully showcased her…great personality.

 

The strobe lights reflected in her glass, lips behind the rim of her cock-tail. It left a mark of lipstick when she placed it back on the bar counter. She flipped her hair in a practiced fashion, easily cascading like a waterfall on her translucent skin. Lance thought she looked like a vampire, all dolled-up in a sexy gothic fashion. He glanced at her pretty mouth, admiring the plush cushions and the row of straight teeth.

 

Call him Bella Swan or whatever, he had a thing for sharp canines. He could already feel it’s cutting edge nipping his skin, leaving a dark bruise.

 

“Mmhm,” she said, swirling her drink. “I’m a ballerina.”

 

“Fancy,” Lance said, propping his chin on a hand, cocking his head playfully, “So you wear those itchy tutus and pointy shoes?”

 

She playfully glared at him, “It’s every girl’s dream to feel like a princess and being a ballerina is the closest thing to it.”

 

“I have mad respect for you,” Lance said and pointed at his shoes, “looks like it’s a pain.”

 

“It is,” she sighed, taking a sip of her drink. “The instructors are strict and we all hold a very tight schedule.”

 

“I must be lucky that I manage to catch you,” Lance smirked.

 

“Indeed,” she chuckled, inching her fingers to his arm, “It’s all worth it in the end. It’s hard to keep up, everything is mostly on about strength, endurance, and flexibility.”

 

Lance is going to get laid. He can read behind context clues.

 

He downed his vodka shot, relishing the burn in his throat. His neck was slick with sweat from dancing and grinding against people. The club smelled faintly of alcohol and regrets, but Lance liked that kind of atmosphere. It’s where he could let go.

 

“Sounds tough.”

 

“It is, I just want to take a break,” she yawned, stretching her arms, and revealed a sparkling diamond dangling from a golden chain in between her breast. “I’m tired.”

 

“Wanna get out of here?”

 

She grinned and tipped the bartender, “I thought you’d never ask.”

 

They stepped out of the club, suddenly face with downpour of heavy rain. Loud booming thunder struck from a distance, the woman beside him yelped and gripped Lance’s shirt.The streetlight was dimly flickering on and off. People briskly walking to get shelter, using their bags or umbrellas as a shield from the freezing weather. Cars whizzed past them, spraying murky water everywhere. The sidewalks were wet with puddles. Lance hailed a taxi, whistling sharply and waving. The yellow cab turned up to the curb. Lance, like the gentleman he was, opened the car door for the lady. She shot him a quick smile and then climbed on. As Lance was about to follow in, his pocket started vibrating. His phone was ringing continuously, almost incessantly. He checked the ID, seeing an unknown number blinking in the screen. He told the driver to give him a moment and he grunted in response.

 

“Hello?” Lance answered, cupping the phone close to his ear. “Yes, this is he.”

 

“What? Wait, excuse me?”

 

Lance heart was beating fast, almost hammering out of his rib cage. Water condensing under his eyes, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the rain or his own tears, maybe a mix of both.

 

Lance broke into a sprint, ignoring the angry calls of the bombshell he left behind. He disappeared in the dark of the night. The small screen of his phone was his only source of light.  His vision was slightly obscured. He was cold and damp with rain and sweat. The veins around around his wrists were throbbing painfully. It felt tight, like that fancy noose he wore as a tie.

 

 

 

.

.

.

 

 

 

**“Lance McClain?”**

**“I’m sorry to say this, but…”**

**“There’s been an accident in the highway regarding…”**

**“—has been suffering major injuries.”**

**“—died on impact.”**

**“—currently in surgery—“**

**“—please, breath—“**

_**“Sir?”** _

 

.

.

.

 

 

 

_“Ta-dah!” Lance let go off his hands that covered her eyes. Delilah gaped at the sight of in front of her, and quickly whipped her head to him. Her golden curls slapping across his face. She gripped his ear, pulling it to her level. He yelped in pain, slapping her hand away. She pursed her lips, her face pink._

 

_“This is what you’ve been doing!?” She shrieked, gesturing to the laughing group of family and friends. “Oi, Is this why you’ve been so secretive these past weeks? Coño!”_

 

_“Hey, appreciate my effort, ugly!”_

 

_She sighed at him, and turned to face the crowd once again. Her anger was quickly replaced with bashful happiness and dancing mirth. The room was decorated with streamers and baby-blue balloons. A round table was piled with gifts in shiny wrapping paper. Stars and planets hanging on the ceiling. A buffet filled with sweets and delicacies. Cupcakes sprinkled with tiny sparkles and it looked like a galaxy in a cup. Hunk stood by the table, holding a cake. Pidge was next to him, holding a cam-recorder._

 

_Their mother was silently crying with the rest of the family. Her husband stood next to them, a sheepish smile in place._

 

 

_“Mike, you knew about this too!?”_

 

_“Sorry, hon,” He said with a strained laugh, he placed a hand on Mama’s shoulder. He pointed a look to her. Delilah understood what he meant. She still was very offended, though._

 

_Lance draped a shoulder of his twitching his sister, and drawled, “How else are we going to greet that little critter inside of you?”_

 

_Delilah glared at him, seething under her breath. Under her eyes were dark eye-bags, her tan looking a bit on the pallid side. Her cardigan was slipping down her shoulder. Gee, McClain women were really cursed with monster-like pregnancies, Lance thought offhandedly._

 

_Later, when Delilah was finally calm enough to have a proper conversation, she thanked everyone who gave her their blessings. Some of her girlfriends caressing her swollen belly delicately. She giggled along with them, her cute dimples on her cheeks showing._

 

_“Finally, Lala. You’re pretty late in the bandwagon,” said Miranda, holding a little girl in her arms._

 

_“Oh shut up, we’re not all sex-crazed like you,” she snarked, sticking her tongue out._

 

_“I really find that hard to believe,” Lance whispered to Mike, who turned very pink at the comment._

 

_The women dispersed, retreating towards the buffet table. Hunk was surrounded by them, he was blushing from their compliments and pleads of his recipes. Lance took this opportunity to sneak behind his sister, he lifted his arms—ready for the onslaught of tickles._

 

_“Don’t even think about it, forehead.”_

 

_“Boo,” Lance said. He crouched down, petting the small bundle residing in her. He smiled softly when he felt a kick, and cooed. “Aw, he knows his tio Lance.”_

 

_Delilah snorted and took a bite of her cupcake, she moaned in delight. Blue frosting coated the corners of her lips._

 

_“Thought of names yet?”_

 

_Delilah hummed, trailing a circle on top of her belly. “Yeah, thinking about Ari…”_

 

_“Well, it’s a safe bet. Considering you won’t even get a gender check,” Lance said, shaking his head._

 

_She pouted at him. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”_

 

_“Hm.”_

 

_“Mike and I agreed that it’s a good name,” She said, waving her hand flippantly. “Mike’s a history philosophy nerd, if it’s a guy we’d call him Aristotle. If it would be a girl, Ari-“_

 

_“Ariana,” Lance said dryly, rolling his eyes. “I know. You blast Ariana Grande’s songs every time I hitch a ride with you.”_

 

_“You do know me,” she patted his cheek._

 

_“Oh, I got them this.” Lance lifted a blue lion stuffed toy, handing it to her. Delilah smiled softly at it, playing with it’s rag-doll arms._

 

_“It’s cute.”_

 

_“It better be,” Lance said, putting his chest up, with a proud grin, “I made it myself.”_

 

_“Damn, little brother. You’re being sappy again.”_

 

_“Damn straight.”_

 

 

 

.

.

[...](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IR-afqCcgAs)

 

 

Lance arrived in hospital soaked to the bone: His hair was matted to his face. His jacket heavy with rainwater. His shoes were making a disgusting squelching sound every time he took another step. He had gotten glares from the staff and patients alike, but honestly he couldn’t give a rat’s ass about those people because his sister was in some cold room being cut open. His lips were chapped and raw, bleeding. The iron entered his tongue with a tangy sensation. His teeth were chattering, knees buckling from the cold air the AC is blowing or maybe it’s the sick situation. He wanted to puke because he couldn’t think of blood right now. He had already puked out all the alcohol in his system in some random park, even if he didn’t throw up his guts out, his fear has sobered him.

 

He was standing by the doors and he was listening, he was fucking listening because he had ADHD, and he couldn’t focus for shit, but he’s listening, okay?

 

The doctor in front of him is cold and distant like the thunderstorm outside. His fist is clenched, knuckles turned white. He wants to punch the doctor because he can’t say shit like Mike dying on impact in a detached tone as if it was they were talking about the shitty weather.

 

It went like this. How it happened. Lance couldn't tell all the details because his mind was fuzzy and numb. His throat was rough from wailing for ten minutes straight. It was rough because he had been yelling at the nurse because he was the only one there who showed. Where the fuck is his family?

 

but it went like this.

 

Mike and Delilah were invited in this really important meeting for work.

 

 

 

Delilah was eight months pregnant.

 

 

 

Mike loved her, so he decided they go home early because she deserved rest.

 

 

 

Delilah was eight months pregnant.

 

 

 

They were in their car. It was a new one because Mike got promoted and he wanted a nice car. They have a car seat for a baby in the back because Delilah was eight months pregnant.

 

They go to the highway. They don’t live in the city because it was not good for the baby or whatever.

 

 

 

Delilah was eight months pregnant.

 

 

 

It was raining and no one fucking said it was going to be a thunderstorm. Delilah hated thunder and rain. That was also where she and Lance stop in the middle because Lance loved it, loved chaos and the noise. So, she turned up the radio, playing another one of those annoying Ariana Grande songs because she was obsessed. Mike sent her a chagrined smile and didn’t protest because Delilah was eight months pregnant and deserves that much.

 

The road was wet and slippery, but that was no problem because Mike was a smart and safe driver. He also had some sort of paranoia, so he drove slow.

 

 

Delilah was eight months pregnant.

 

They were safe and there was no harm no foul because they were great and innocent people. Until some bastard truck driver high-beams them and swerved the truck in their direction. Mike loved Delilah, so he used himself as human-shield from the glass shattering. There was blood.

 

The car flipped. But that didn’t matter because Mike fucking died on impact. Delilah passed out because something pierced her and it was enough to lose a lot of blood. She had broken arm. She had a huge gash on her forehead. Her collar bone was fractured. The ambulance came after fifteen minutes. They put her on a stretcher and they had to revive her because she didn't breath at one point. Mike wasn’t with her because he was in body bag surrounded by police men. They arrived in the hospital. They rushed her into surgery.

 

Delilah managed to come out of haze and blinked at one of the doctors and didn’t cry.

 

 

“Save my baby.”

 

 

Delilah was eight months pregnant. 

 

 

 

 

. 

. 

. 

 

 

 

The McClain family was outside, a morose and dark atmosphere surrounded them. Danny and Camila were here, but not the kids because they were sleeping. Camila had her sister on speed dial so Hannah took care of them. Margot’s eyes were red and swollen, she was still in her pyjamas and wearing unlaced sneakers. Coco was fiddling with a snapback Delilah gave him for his birthday, he just got back from a house party so he smelled like cheap beer and sweat. He had a hickey on his neck. Darwin was sitting in a corner by himself and it was the most still he had ever been. Nessie was coming by later because she couldn't fly  due to bad weather. Dad was just standing there, a hollow look in his eyes. Mama had been hysterical and Danny convinced her to rest on his shoulder for a while until they get updates.

 

Lance…he didn’t know what he was doing.

 

His phone was dead, so he couldn’t call Hunk, or Pidge. He didn't have a extra pair of clothes, so he was shaking like a leaf. A nurse draped a blanket over his shoulder. He didn’t even  register the sad smile on her face.

 

It had been approximately six hours.

 

The doctor was out, his scrubs were stained with blood—Delilah's blood. His gloves were already disposed, so his hands were bare. They didn’t tremble like Lance’s, and it pissed him off a bit. He looked exhausted. He was a thin man, almost a skeleton. He looked like he had dabbled with drugs. His eyes were beady. Another doctor came out, it was a woman this time. She looked more put together, but Lance could see her lip trembling, her right leg twitching.

 

“I…I’m sorry.”

 

Mama fucking wailed.

 

 

 

 

 

. 

. 

. 

 

 

Delilah’s time of death was 4:55 in the morning. She lost too much blood. Her heart couldn’t pump up enough to make up the loss. She flatlined twice before she was announced dead. Lance saw her body and he wanted to puke because Delilah didn’t look like that. She was pale, her cheeks hollow. Her blue eyes that were identical to his were dim behind the eyelids. There was an array of cuts and bruises around her face and one that takes over her collar bone like a necklace. The only thing Lance could say was that Delilah looked dead.

 

Oh, and the kid. Well.

 

He looked alive.

 

 

. 

. 

. 

 

 

The McClain family had lost one member of their family, but had gained another new tiny one. The problem was who was going to take care of him. They name him Ari because that would have been what his parents wanted.

 

The family used to be quiet, but now they’re a mess. They’re panicking. They were thinking of options. They were frantically stressing because they have a kid now. An orphaned kid, a baby boy who was only a few hours old. Mama kept running a hand through her hair. Darwin was the only one silent because he was thinking too much. The twins were talking back and forth for ideas. Camila and Danny were arguing with Dad because they wanted to take Ari in, but they already had their hands full with five children.. Nessie was pacing back and forth, her cellphone in her hand, pressed against her ear. She was still wearing her pants suit.

 

So here was the thing, they couldn’t take Ari.

 

Mama and Dad can’t take care of him because Dad has bad arthritis and Mama has to take care of Abuela. Lance doesn’t think it’s fair to thrust another child in her hands.

 

Danny and Camila would have to be crazy to take another one. Not even sure if Camila was expecting or not..

 

Nessie had a demanding job that requires her to travel all the time.

 

Margot and Coco just started college.

 

Darwin…he was just a kid.

 

 

Lance hasn’t said anything in awhile ever since they declared Delilah dead. He left them to their bickering and desperation. They didn’t notice him because no one ever noticed Lance in his big family. He walked to the nursery with legs that feel like lead and dark shadows finding their way under his eyes. He stopped in front of the large window that display rows of newborn infants. He searched around, his gaze zeroing on the small baby wearing blue. His eyes scrunched together. His tan skin looked soft to touch. He reached his hand on the window, gently placing it on the child.

 

When he turned, his family had followed him. They looked at him silently, as if confirming their thoughts.

 

“I’ll take him,” he said.

 

 

 

.

.

.

 

 

 

The first time Lance held Ari, it was both terrifying and amazing. There was a small bundle in his arms. He was making soft noises that gave him relief. He was breathing. That was the best sound he had heard in his entire life. Lance had a million things running in his head. What if he dropped him? What if he wasn’t there for him? What if he wasn’t cut out for this?

 

He thought of Delilah’s wedding. The cheesy roller coaster metaphor speech came to mind.

 

Ari started to cry and Lance panicked. He shot his mother a look and she smiled reassuringly. She left him in the room alone by himself. He shushed the baby gently, recalling an old lullaby.

 

 

 

_“Arrorro mi niño_

 

 

_Arrorro mi sol_

 

 

_Arrorro un pedazo de mi corazon_

 

 

 

 _Este niño lindo se quiere dormir,”_ Lance muttered softly, rocking him back and forth. The baby’s cries slowed at the soothing voice.

 

 

 

_“Háganle la cuna de rosa y jazmín_

 

 

_Háganle la cama en el toronjil_

 

 

 _Y en la cabecera pónganle un jazmín que con su fragancia me lo hago dormir,”_ he trailed a single finger down the slope of his fragile head. He hummed the rest of the song.

 

His humming hitched when his small hand grasped his finger. Fingernails small enough to be a grain of rice. His grip was tighter now and Lance curled his finger. He shuddered, and bite his lip. He was crying now. He had done a lot of crying in his life. When those bullies shoved his face down on the dirt. When he fell off the swings and scraped his knee. When his first girlfriend dumped him over a football player. His college acceptance letter. Delilah’s wedding. Delilah dying.

 

“Hey, kiddo,” Lance whispered, cradling the back of his head. “Um, Mom and Dad aren’t here, but tio Lance is—no, that’s not, doesn’t seem right.”

 

He tickled the tip of his nose and Lance laughs, “Yeah, Papa Lance is going to take care of you.”

 

Ari gurgled, clenching and unclenching his tiny fist.

 

 **“You are the love of my life,"** he said, settling his gaze on his son deeply. **"Everything I have and everything I am is yours.”**

 

He kisses the crown of his head gently, soft like a feather.

 

**“Forever.”**

 

.

.

.

 

 

 

 

Lance led a simple life.

 

 

 

 

.

.

.

 

 

 

 

and then he didn’t.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave some kudos or a comment! It helps me out a lot. :D
> 
> translation:
> 
> Hush-a-bye my baby  
> Hush-a-bye my sun  
> Hush-a-bye oh piece  
> of my heart.
> 
> This pretty child  
> Wants to sleep already  
> Make him a cradle  
> of rose and jasmine.
> 
> Make him a bed  
> On the lemon balm  
> And at the head  
> Put jasmine  
> With its fragrance  
> To put him to sleep for me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life gets harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank my wonderful and beautiful editor and BETA pal: galaxy-gayrrison
> 
> Some music to listen to:
> 
> Mr. Brightside - The Killers
> 
> You'll Be in My Heart - Phil Collins (LOL don't judge me.)
> 
> Small Bump - Ed Sheeran
> 
> Wake Up - Arcade Fire

Okay, Lance may have been a bit rash in his decision. He doesn’t regret it. Not at all. Never. Although, he could have been a bit more prepared with the whole Parenting shtick. Unlike most parents, they had an entire year to be ready for the special delivery. Lance was thrusted upon this small child. This delicate and fragile life depending on him. Hearing that fleeting heartbeat under his soft skin, was worth it.

 

He was absolutely not going to mess this up.

 

Anyway, parenting was like being a babysitter 24/7. He had some experience from his high school years, tons of kids adored him. He grew up in a mad house filled with six other siblings with one bathroom. He could change diaper. He can make sure his kid won’t choke to death because duh, it’s never happened before. The most important thing was keeping Ari alive. If his parents could do it, so could he. It was practically in his blood.

 

It couldn’t really hurt that he would be a bit more prepared. It was like cramming for one of his big finals, but instead of reading the complexity of aerodynamics and elliptical trajectories, he would divulging in best selling parenting books, The Guide to Being a Single Father, and Dr. Seuss. He almost cried in relief when friends and family had gifted him baby necessities. His parents, despite his protests, paid the lease of his two-bedroom apartment.

 

It was a good thing that his best friends lived in the same building as him because what the heck, how do you baby-proof toilets? Lance doesn’t really get why he needs to when Ari can’t even crawl. His mom had whack upside the head for that comment, and he begrudgingly did as he was asked.

 

“I find it hilarious that you can make some super computer, but can’t even install a baby-proofing toilet seat,” Lance said, leaning against the doorway of the bathroom.

 

 

Pidge was sitting in front of the toilet, sighing out in frustration. Their frizzy bangs were kept neatly away by a headband. They wore denim overalls with a sweater. The sleeves rolled up to their elbows. They looked like a very intense Bob the Builder. They collapsed again the tiled wall, glaring at him dully. “This is why I’m never getting kids.”

 

Hunk was in the other room, cheerfully decorating the nursery with blues and creams. He place the baby mobile above the crib which was miniature version of the solar system. An oak rocking chair in the corner that was cushioned by fluffy pillows. He artfully placed the stuffed animals and squishy pillows in the crib, making sure Blue the Lion was the noticeable piece.

 

“Whoa, Hunk…Is there anything you can’t do?” Lance said in awe, taking in the room. There were still a few unopened boxes outside, more baby clothes and blankets. Lance knew that Delilah was popular in high school, more so in college, but this was just ridiculous. Delilah used to forget what she ate for breakfast, how could she remember people from her English Lit class?

 

Lance knew why they did. Delilah McClain was a forced to be reckoned with. The steadfast staggering beautiful and bubbly party girl everyone knew in one glance. He knew that they were crying in their houses because Delilah they all knew and looked up to from afar died. It was a harsh reality that crashed on everyone because literally anyone can die, people like Delilah aren’t excluded.

 

Shay was outside organising the the kitchen, stacking groceries into the cupboard. 

 

Lance hasn’t showered for like two days because Ari’s arrival was soon. His time to play house coming, but except it wasn’t child’s play, it was real and scary.

 

Lance called his sister-in-law. She answered in the second ring. Without even thinking, he blurted out, “How do you know when you’re ready?”

 

“You don’t,” she answered without a beat. A child’s high-pitched screeching in the background. Lance winced from the sound.

 

“Camiiiii, please tell me your secrets,” Lance whined.

 

A sigh was heard the receiver, “It’s true, you really don’t.”

 

“Your advice sucks,” Lance grunted, “I can’t believe you’re a mom.”

 

He could practically hear the roll of her eyes.

 

“Honesty is the best way to go.”

 

 

 

“Sometimes, it’s okay to lie about these kinds of things,” Lance said.

 

“You’re going to be fine.”

 

Lance paused, “Okay, that was mean. I don’t know if you’re being honest.”

 

“You’ll figure it out,” she laughed, but it was cut by another scream, “Oh cheese, there goes another one.”

 

“Cheese?”

 

“I’ll call you later, Lance,” before he could reply, the line was cut.

 

He stared at the phone incredulously, the beeping sound mocking him. Shay stared at him pitifully over the kitchen counter. She walked towards him, encompassing him with her thick arms. Lance relaxed under her touch, and leaned into her warmth.

 

“Everything will be alright,” she said, patting his back comfortable.

 

“Okay,” He croaked out. He felt two more pairs of arms wrapping around him. He could see the brown tuft of Pidge’s hair and the tail of Hunk’s bandana. The warmth doubling from their added body heat. He closed his eyes, and dropped his head on Pidge’s head, muttering thank you’s into their hair.

 

He had his friends with him.

 

He could handle this.

 

 

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

 

 

“I can’t handle this!” Lance said frantically into the receiver. His phone wedged between his shoulder and ear, as his arms were occupied in the moment. Ari was squirming in his hold, his little lungs were letting out ear-piercing screams into the apartment. Fat tears falling from his eyes.

 

“I know! I’m so sorry, Ari,” Lance cried, rocking his tiny body, “Fuck, Ari, I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Lance! Calm down, just breath, this is normal.”

“Hunk, it’s four in the morning, I haven’t slept in thirty six hours, and my arms are practically dying here,” Lance said, his voice rough with sleep, “Ari isn’t even that heavy.”

“You know I’d be there in a heartbeat,” Hunk said sadly, guilt in his tone, “I can’t exactly fly in today.”

“Is that Lance?” He heard Pidge say from the distance, he could hear rustling. “How are you holding up?”

“What kind of question is that?” Lance growled. Ari cried some more.

“Lance,” Pidge said. He could see the raised eyebrow from a thousands miles away. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Lance croaked out as he bounced Ari in his arms. His wails haven’t subsided at all. There was a loud thumping from the ceiling, it was grumpy old guy from up stairs. Yeah, screw you too, asshole.

“Maybe he’s hungry,” Hunk said. They were on speaker.

“I just fed him a few hours ago,” He said feebly.

“Crap.” He heard Pidge say quietly, the phone was muffled for a few moments. He heard both of them sigh in frustration.

“Lance, we are so so so sorry.”

“Dude, fuck, we have to go.”

“What?”

“Break’s over, we have to get back in the conference.”

“We are—“

“No, no,” His voice cracked, and he sniffled. He whispered a few words into Ari’s little ear. “It’s okay…I’ll figure something out.”

“Buddy, we are so sorry.”

 

“I am so going to buy Ari that astronaut onesie, don’t worry,” Pidge said resolutely.

 

“Bye, guys,” Lance said, and just dropped his phone into the carpeted floor. Not even bothering to check it because he so so so tired.

 

Ari was still crying. He was wailing like a cat being brutally murdered, and he felt so sick for just imaging that picture. Tears still continued to fall continuously, his face tinged with an angry red. His small face scrunched together as if he was frustrated to be stuck with a fucking stupid dad.

 

To be honest, Lance wanted to cry too. The first few leaks came out, and then a dam broke. He tried to stifle his sobs by biting his lips. It was hard enough to break the skin, drawing in blood. Lance glanced out the window, it was raining pretty hard. Normally rain would soothe his worries and the relax the tension in his shoulders, but it wasn’t today because Ari. Can’t. Stop. Crying.

 

The window’s reflection mirrored his face. His skin was crusty and pale. Dark shadows under his eyes. Blue spider-webs veins around the temples. His nose was tinged with red. His eyes were bloodshot. The rims around them burned, puffy and swollen. He looked horrible.

 

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

 

_“Lancey, stop crying,” Delilah said, squishing his cheeks together. “Shh, shh.”_

 

_“I want Mama and Daddy,” Lance wailed, clutching his shark plushie between his arms tightly, the button eyes bulging from its stitches. His feet were sweaty from his blue onesie, but the soft cotton was the only thing comforting him._

 

_Delilah’s hair was mussed in one side, and a braid that was slowly being undone. She was pushing his unruly bangs of his sweaty forehead. His body was trembling._

 

_“Mama and Daddy are just outside,” she said quietly, “they’re just checking the fuse box thingy.”_

 

_“Where’s Nessie and Danny?” Lance asked, looking at her with watery eyes._

 

_Delilah laughed dryly, “They’re out in a party.”_

_“Like a birthday party?” Lance asked confusedly, “but it’s so late.”_

 

_“They’re drinking a lot of juice,” she said with a tight smile. “the really bad ones.”_

 

_A door slammed from outside, Lance immediately wrapped around his sister’s, trying to merge his body into her. He was shaking uncontrollably. Delilah’s barbie pyjamas getting soaked with snot and tears. The stuffed toy wedged between their bodies._

 

_“Lala, I’m so scared,” he whimpered into the collar of her shirt. Delilah placed her pointy chin on his head, and trailed her small fingers down his back. Another door slammed, and flinched. His head collided to her chin, he could feel her wince above him._

 

_“Owie.”_

 

_“Sorry,” he mumbled._

 

_The house’s power was still out. The room still enveloped in darkness. The only light was the moon from outside, but even then it still wasn’t enough to lessen the nerves in Lance. A familiar tune started humming from Delilah. She was playing with the wispy ends of his hair._

 

_“Come stop your crying, it will be alright.”_

 

_Tarzan, Lance thought._

 

_“Just take my hand,” She grabbed his hand, circling the back with her thumb. “Hold it tight.”_

 

_“I will protect you from all around you,” He huddled closer, the grip on her shirt was loosened significantly. He sighed shakily. “I will be here, don’t you cry…”_

 

 

_._

 

_._

 

 

_._

 

 

 _“For one was so small…”_ Lance continued, rocking the baby in his arms slowly, _“you seem so strong.”_

 

 _“My arms will hold you…keep you safe and warm.“_ He sang softly, massaging his tiny hand with his fingers.

 

 _“T-this-this bond between us…”_ Lance sang, voice cracking. Thunder clapped in the distance, _“can’t be broken…”_

 _“I will be here,”_ He said, kissing his cheek. Ari’s cries slowly subsiding, not entirely, but it was something, _“don’t you cry.”_

 _“Cause you’ll be in my heart,”_ he sang, his voice slightly scratchy from crying. “ _Yes, you’ll be in my heart.”_

 _“From this day on…now and forever more,”_ swaying, his wails reducing into soft whimpers.

 _“You’ll be in my heart,”_ a tiny hiccup echoed in the apartment.

 _“No matter what they say,”_ a small tear landed on Ari’s nose, he scrunched his face. Lance chuckled lightly, and swiped his thumb on it.

 _“You’ll be here in my heart,”_ he whispered. Ari’s breathing controlled and even. He placed a hand behind his head, cradling delicately. He walked to the nursery, humming the soft tune. He gently placed the baby, the strong heart hammering in his tiny chest.

_“always”._

 

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

 

 

It wasn’t easy. It never has been. It never will be. Lance knows that, he does, and he doesn’t need anyone to tell him that because he knows it’s never easy. It’s never fucking easy.

 

He gets shit for being a single parent, a single father. He knows this because people still knock on his door in the middle of the night screaming at his face because he can’t shut up his baby. A baby who has had a second chance at having a normal childhood because yeah, his parents are fucking dead from a stupid car accident.

 

But Lance doesn’t say this to them because he doesn’t need to explain himself. He’s tired. He’s so so tired. He just finished feeding Ari and Lance has been crying for like two minutes because Ari almost swallowed a toy rocket, but he doesn’t need to explain because he is tired.

 

He doesn’t say anything to them because they don’t understand the circumstances, the whole story behind Ari. They will never deserve the story because Lance is a single father who has a little boy that he painfully loves with his entire being because that little boy is his everything. They don’t have the right to stare at him pitifully because, oh no, a poor orphaned boy with no family, no parents. That is not true, not entirely, because Ari does have a family, he has two loving grandparents, he has two beautiful aunts, three awesome uncles, he has a Pidge, has has a Hunk, and he has a really weird possibly insane Papa.

 

because Delilah deserves that much.

 

because Ari deserves that much.

 

because Lance deserves that much.

 

So, Lance just flips them off, and apologise and slam the door to their face because it's storytime and bedtime is ten minutes after that. He's running late because they took too long on binging Voltron.

 

And fuck, Lance has to finish his paper for work later.

 

so yeah, don't give him shit.

 

He’s so over it.

 

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

 

 

Psst.

 

 

 

Pssssssssst

 

 

 

Pssssssssssssssssssst.

 

 

“Ah…Mama, two more minutes…”

 

 

 

A loud bubbly laugh enters his ears, and a heavy weight is bouncing on his back. Lance has to sigh, but flips onto his back, and tackle the energetic boy and pin him into the bed. He tickles the boy’s side without mercy. He squirms under his hold, tiny tears leaking out his eyes.

 

“Papa!” He screams, prying his arms off him, “Stop!”

 

“Nothing will ever make me stop!” Lance cackled evilly, he blew raspberry into his exposed stomach.

 

His son looked at him blankly, dead in the face, “I will pee on your bed.”

 

“Okay, that will do,” Lance said hurriedly. Ari hopped off the bed, and whizzed off the room. His soft footsteps echoing into the hallway.

 

Lance dragged a hand down his face, and let a huge yawn. He stretched his body, arms high above his head. He slowly peeled off the mask off his face, throwing it into the bin next to his bed. He slapped himself lightly, feeling his hand make contact with soft and smooth skin.

 

“Papa, What’s taking you so looooooooong,” Ari moaned.

 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Lance chuckled, following his son to the kitchen. “Mijo, what do you want for breakfast?”

 

“Coco Puffs!” he practically screamed. Lance raised an eyebrow at him.

 

“You sure about that?” Lance said, opening the cupboard. “We’ve been eating them for a week.”

 

Ari was silent for a second, and then said, “Lucky Charms.”

 

“Hooray for variety,” Lance mumbled.

 

“Hooray!” Ari yelled, jumping up and down. “Va-ri-eh-teeaaa.”

 

Lance shook his head, a smile in place. “Sit down, mijo.”

 

Ari climbed into his seat, practically vibrating, his spoon clattering on the table. Lance placed the bowl in front of him, ruffling his hair with a hand. He poured milk into the bowl. Ari immediately munched into his breakfast, milk spilling everywhere. Lance rolled his eyes at the mess. He placed the cup of apple juice away from it. Lance went back into the kitchen, preparing Ari’s lunch. A ham and cheese one because Ari hates peanut butter, Pidge was thoroughly disappointed at him.

 

 

 

“Can I come to work today?” Ari said as he chewed, a trail of milk slipping past his lips. “I promise I won’t be trouble.”

 

“Ari…come on, you can’t.” Lance sighed, “At least not today.”

 

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because,” Lance said.

 

Ari pouted, “That’s not a good reason.”

 

“Work isn’t a good place for kids,” Lance said, putting the sandwich in a ziplock, placing it into his lunchbox.

 

“I’m not a kid.”

 

“And I’m not busy,” Lance rebutted. “Auntie Shay is picking you up today. I have to do over-time.”

 

Ari grumbled, pushing his bowl. He sipped into his sippy-cup. He doesn’t trust Ari enough to not spill juice yet.

 

“You don’t like Auntie Shay?”

 

“I like you more,” He said.

 

Lance laughed, pressing his lips on his forehead. “and I love you more.”

 

“Ewwwww,” Ari said, pushing his dad’s face away. “You’re so cheeeeesy. Cheesy-cheeeeeese.”

 

Lance winked, shooting finger-guns at him. “The ladies love it.”

 

“Yucky.”

 

“What, you prefer if boys love it?”

 

Ari looked at him confusedly, cocking an eyebrow at him. “but papa, you’re a boy.”

 

“Last time I checked, I was,” Lance said, packing his lunch box into his backpack.

 

“…that’s not possible?” Ari said, but he sounded very unconvinced with his own words.

 

“Oh boys do like me, they like me a lot,” Lance said, secretly hiding a wide grin. Yeah, okay, whatever. Go judge him. “I like them too, like how I like girls.”

 

“That’s a thing?”

 

“Yeah, that’s called being gay,” Lance said, suddenly treading into a really serious conversation, “or bisexual in my case.” 

 

“Bi-whaaa?”

 

 

“Let’s go with bi,” Lance said, grimacing. He could still remember his mama’s unimpressed face when Ari said ‘fuck’ in front of her. He took the fall for Ari though, his ass stung for the rest of the day. “Liking both girls and boys.”

 

 

 “Uh…gay?”

 

“Well, gay is when you like a boy, but not girls.” Lance said, grabbing the dishes into the sink. “Kinda like tia Margot? she only likes girls.”

 

“Does Delilah like girls?” Ari asked. Delilah was Nessie’s kid. She finally settled down with a good guy somewhere in the West Coast. She still travels a lot, but not as much. Carson, her husband, was a stay-at-home dad, so it was hardly a problem. Their mother practically cried when the news broke out, and Nessie without even a thought named her.

 

“I don’t know, maybe?” Lance shrugged, “She’s like three.”

 

 

“Am I gay?”

 

“Do you like girls?”

 

 

“No.”

 

“Do you like boys?”

 

“No.”

 

Lance scratched the back of his head, “You’ll figure it out soon, I guess?”

 

Ari hummed, looking deep in thought.

 

“C’mon, it’s time for your bath,” Lance said, ushering him to the bathroom.

 

“Noooooo,” he drawled, trying to sink in the floor.

 

“Ari,” Lance said sternly. When he was younger, he’d been dreaming of the day of using the La Chancla when he became a dad, be all stereotypical and all, but one look in Ari’s wide blue eyes, he banned the practice entirely. Maybe Lance wasn't cute enough to stop it from it happening to him, he muses.

 

He had a better method though.

 

 

 

“Uno.” 

 

Ari glared at him, eyes ablaze with betrayal.

 

“Dos.” 

 

Still quiet. The ceiling fan was humming.

 

“Tres—“

 

“Alright—!” He cried, scrambling from the floor.

 

 Lance smirked, inwardly patting himself on the back. Works every time.

 

 

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

 

“Make sure you say bye to Mama and Dad?”

 

“Okay!”

 

Ari scurried into the the table in the hallway. He bowed down, and blew a kiss to the two pictures. Delilah’s photo was her being six months pregnant, a sun hat a top of her head, her dark curls in the breeze. She was smiling impishly, hey eyes dancing with mirth. Mike’s photo was a candid photo of him by the window, sitting comfortable with a book in his hand. A steaming mug in the other. His round glasses for once didn't give a bright flare from the flash. It was snowing that day. Lance took the photo, and commented that Mike looked the most content and relaxed ever. Put it in the album, he said.

 

“Bye, Mama,” Ari said, patting the table, “bye, Dad!”

 

Ari was fiddling with his jacket as Lance as he turned the car open. Ari looked around the street, and his eyes perked up when he saw a moving van parked right next to them a few meters away.

 

“Papa.”

 

“Que, Mijo?”

 

 

“Hay un camión!” 

 

Lance went rigid, dropping the keys to the pavement. He whipped his head to Ari. He hugged Ari, closing his eyes.

 

“Ah—Papa?”

 

Lance awkward stood from his crouch. Ari pointed at the van behind him, and he exhaled a huge breath.

 

“Oh.” He felt dumb.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said gruffly, picking up the keys from the ground, “That’s a van.”

 

“There’s a difference? Are you sure?”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” He shook his, and told Ari to get in the car. As he backed up, he noticed a flash of long dark hair. That must a new tenant. Mr. Robins from upstairs must have been moved to the nursing home by now. Lance silently thanked the heavens, good riddance, asshole.

 

“You can ask the teacher.”

“So you don’t know?”

“Hijo, I deal with complex mathematical equations and study planets and stars. I have a degree on astronomy, and dabble on some aerodynamics and astrophysics.”

“So you don’t know.”

“…Just buckle up.”

 

 

 

 

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

 

 

Damn it.

 

 

 

Lance was at work, in his lunch break, eating his tuna salad with Hunk and Pidge on either side. Pidge was chewing on a peanut butter and chocolate sandwich, with a tub of it next to them, a spoon sticking out of it. Hunk was eating Shawarma in a roll.

“Is there a difference between a van and a truck?”

“Yes,”  they both answered simultaneously.

Lance groaned, and muttered, “I’m dumb.”

Pidge snorted, and took another bite. “What else is new?”

Lance glared at them, and dropped his chin on his hand. His eyes trailed over to the table ahead of them. He licked his lips. He ogled on the man’s biceps, and the strong jaw.

Daddy.

“You’re disgusting,” Pidge said, leaning away.

“What!” Lance said, scandalised, “It’s like he’s asking for attention. Those muscles are calling my name. Lance, Lance, feel them, yessss.”

“You are so shameless.”

“What else is new?” Hunk piped up.

“Shiro’s so hot, it’s unfaaaair,” Lance whined, slumping into his seat. “They are literally bulging out of his shirt. Like do they even allow sleeves that short in here? It’s criminal, I tell you.”

“Don’t even dare! You and I both know, that Allura and Matt are pining over him.” 

“I know,” Lance said grumpily, “They’ve been talking about a threesome. They’re the ones whose shameless.”

“Ha, you are so such a hypocrite. Tell that to your college-self.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Lance said, he picked his phone up, and showed a photo of Ari as a caterpillar. “Check this out. There was a play in Ari’s school and I just about died.”

 

“That is so cute!” Hunk squealed. Other tables glanced at him weirdly. “You have to send me that, oh my gooooood.”

 

 

“Yeah, that is pretty adorable,” Pidge said, zooming into his face. “He’s the only kid I pretty much tolerate.”

 

“What about Matt’s kid?”

 

“Do you want me to repeat myself?” Pidge said, looking at him with haunted eyes. “That child is possessed. I’ve been sending Matt my theories.”

 

“He’s definitely related to you.”

 

“Oh nooo, is this supposed to be sad scene,” Hunk said, pouting.

 

“Yeah, look how sad he is. It’s so convincing,” Lance cooed, “I almost had to jump in stage and hug him.”

 

Pidge gave him a flat look.

 

They continued to eat, sharing some ridiculous work stories.

 

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

 

Pidge rode with Lance back home. Hunk had to go to his Moms’ house, something about a broken faucet or fridge. They were listening to some Arcade Fire. Lance tapped his finger as the guitar riff played.

 

Pidge was oddly quiet during the whole ride. They only spoke up when they were just about to make the turn to their building. The night was quiet, distant police sirens and the usual hustle bustle wasn’t as bad. There were barely any people walking around.

 

“Lance,” they said, and the sound startled him.

 

He gripped the wheel, glancing at them. “Jesus, Pidge. You scared me.”

 

“Sorry,” Pidge said, sounding not sorry at all. It took for them a moment to say something else. “You can always depend on me, right?

 

“Of course,” Lance frowned, “Why are you asking?”

 

“I mean, I know I call you names and complain to you a lot…but like seriously. If you feel too tired or even at least not ready to face the world, you can just tell me. It’s never been easy…ever since you know.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I’m not great with kids,” Pidge confessed, and it wasn’t the first time that they talked about it, but they sounded so unsure about themselves. They actually felt insecure about this fact. “I love Ari, I really do. That kid is amazing. He deserves the world and more. I like being Pidge or Aunt Katie or whatever. I just want you know if you feel like you can’t handle Ari…”

 

“I can handle Ari,” Lane defended

 

 “Yeah, and that’s so freaking cool and amazing. Don’t doubt that because it is. You are. But Lance, you are not invincible, and it will get too much. You can let me take care of Ari or even Hunk. We haven’t been there that much before, and I’m so sorry if we ever let you feel alone…and…and, I’m ready now. No excuses, no bullshit. I swear to god or whatever higher being or Big foot that I will take care and love Ari with my entire life. Alright? Don’t worry about stuff, okay…just breathe.”

 

“…We’re here.”

 

“Lance…”

 

There was rain pattering down the windshield. Lance’s life was mostly associated with water. The slight drizzling, sudden downpour, and turning into thunderstorm, the entire works of it all. Time passed as if, or else had diminished like rain slowly turning into a drought. It was like the last traces of a good dream faded into the morning, clouds parting. The promise of a new day, but it doesn’t necessarily mean that was good. Lance can’t bear the thought of not having his sister the next day. She was gone just like that, sudden like a snap of a finger, the drop of water from a cloud.

 

 All of the sudden, Lance could only remember the feeling of nothing, numbness soaking his bones. It was fitting, that even after nearly eight years of frustration, ceaseless sadness, and dizzy confusion, Lance still felt angry to the world. The unfairness of it all. It was like the weather man was promising a good day, but then the wind was too much and clouds are grey. 

 

Lance cannot count the many times he had cried himself to sleep. The episodes of nauseating anxiety and fear. He’d sit and hold his head because it felt like the black storm between his ears were ready to burst any second. All of the sudden dumb struck by the feeling of being absolutely too much. 

 

People say Lance was a good man, strong, and independent. That is not true, not even a little bit. Ari was a thing string of hope, like a blue umbrella to protect him from the pelleting rain. The pain subsided. It wasn’t that things was gone just like that. It was still there, he just has to let go of that umbrella and everything would just come crashing down on him. Thing haven’t messed in importance. It is just Lance was so tired to blame the world. He’s spent too much of his energy to keep Ari alive.  

 

That doesn’t stop him being that guy in the driver seat, quiet and speechless. Pidge had said simple words, foreboding in a way. The car ride to Delilah’s burial was similar like this. It had been raining that day, which Lance shouldn’t be surprised anymore that it did.

 

Pidge tried to a catch a glimpse of Lance. The first traces of grief were already spiderwebbing over face that almost horrified him to the point of being mute. Rain becoming background noise. Arcade Fire continued to play through the radio.

****

**_“Something filled up_ **

**_My heart with nothing_ **

**_Someone told me not to cry_ **

**_But now that I'm older_ **

**_My heart's colder_ **

**_And I can see that it's a lie.”_ **

****

There was only two of them as if Lance’s sedan was their own personal bubble. The whole world was dark, a melting shredding of light blue through car windows. Bone rattling thunder in the distance. 

 

Lance hugged Pidge’s body. His body trembling. His entire frame shaking. As rain lulled to tears along the windows, Arcade Fire continue to play about storms.

 

Pidge was holding him with their small and thin arms. They were crying. Fat tears falling into their glasses. Emotions wracking in their small body. They gripped on Lance’s shirt. 

 

**_“Children, wake up_ **

**_Hold your mistake up_ **

**_Before they turn the summer into dust_ **

**_If the children don't grow up_ **

**_Our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up_ **

**_We're just a million little gods causing rain storms_ **

**_Turning every good thing to rust_ **

**_I guess we'll just have to adjust”_ **

 

Then Lane broke, crackling like the bolt of lightning outside. A million thoughts snapped in less than second. Pidge had never been good with expressing theirselves, but he could always read them like a book. There were longer pauses and the detached relationship with words and sentences. Something told him if he looked at Pidge, he would seeing an expression that meant their heart was breaking. Even then she held him tight. The cracking voice of the singer was rough like sandpaper, crackling through the radio.

 

_**“With my lightning bolts a glowing** _

_**I can see where I am going to be”** _

 

“Thank you, Pidge,” Lance sobbed, snot dripping from his nose. “It’s been so hard. So fucking hard!”

 

“I know… I know!” Pidge sobbed, their voice cracking as their throat constricted. “Fuck, Lance, I’m so sorry!”

 

“It’s been so hard, Pidge!” He screamed into their shoulder. Arcade Fire continued to play, it was background noise. Everything was background noise. “It’s never been easy! It never has been! I can’t…can’t. Ari is my fucking life. He’s mine! and I’m his! He owns me. He owns everything…Shit! That kid is the love of my life.”

 

**_“When the reaper he reaches and touches my hand_ **

**_With my lightning bolts a glowing”_ **

 

“I know, Lance.”

“When I look at him…All the shit is gone, y’know. I forget the bullshit, all of it. When he breaths, I feel like the luckiest guy in the world. I just… I’m so happy he’s breathing.”

“Lance, you need to breathe too,” Pidge cried, gripping his shirt tighter. “You have to… it’s okay.”

 

“It’s never been okay !” Lance screamed. “Delilah is fucking dead and it’s been nearly eight years… I miss her so much,” he hiccuped.

 

 His throat felt raw. Lance is crybaby. He cries because he is not invincible. He has never cried in front of Ari except that time when he held him in his arms as his little lungs were shattering because he was crying when the thunderstorm was outside. He hasn’t cried in front him because he can’t let Ari see him be weak. Ari is his ‘strong’. His strong. Mijo, you make me strong.

 

“ Pidge, she didn’t deserve to die…” Lance whimpered, “she had her whole life ahead of her. The roller coaster ended too soon.” 

 

“Wh-what roller coaster?” 

 

**_“I can see where I am going_ **

**_With my lightning bolts a glowing_ **

**_I can see where I am go-going_ **

**_You better look out below!”_ **

 

“It stopped, it fucking stopped.”

 

 

 

.

 

.

 

_._

_Their door was being hammered with knocks. Pidge stared at it warily, eyes heavy with sleep. Hunk looked at them with concerned eyes. At first, they just ignored it. The person would just give up anyways. It could be Mr. Robins from upstairs, and Pidge wasn’t going to deal with that shit in five in the morning._

_But it’s been twenty minutes. The knocking hasn’t stopped._

_Pidge was slightly scared._

_“Yeah, I’m coming,” They grumbled. They picked up the metal bat they found in the closet. They inched closer into the door, and opened it._

_It was Lance._

_His fist was bruised and bloody. His face red and blotchy with tears. Hair messed up from the rain. He was dripping wet. His lips were gnawed raw, and white. His breathing was erratic like he couldn’t let the oxygen in, he was suffocating._

_He looked like a motherfuckin’ wreck._

_“Lance?” Hunk said from behind Pidge._

_Lance was crying, but he didn't move from his place. At that point, they knew something was definitely wrong. Lance craved contact, warmth, and touch. He begged to feel skin against his own. But he didn’t. Lance was so cold._

_“She’s dead,” Lance said hoarsely, and it sounded so painful coming out of his mouth. It sounded like nails scratching a chalkboard. It sounded like tires screeching at a halt. It sounded like glass shattering. It sounded like Delilah’s screaming. It sounded like…sounded like…_

_It sounded like Lance wasn’t breathing._

_“She’s dead.”_

_“My fucking sister is dead.”_

_._

_._

_._

Pidge rounded the corner to their flat. Lance was picking up dinner from the chinese place down the street. They saw someone moving upstairs with ratty old converse shoes. A gaping hole on the their jean-clad knees, the cuffs of their pants frayed. They smelled spicy cologne and cigarette smoke.

 

 

Pidge being the curious Pidge they are, hey, they weren’t as nosy as Hunk who read their diary the moment they turned their back for three minutes, but they were curious.

 

 

The backtracked their steps, and up to the floor above them. There was a door opened, several boxes outside of it. They walked towards the sound of curses emitting out the flat. They peeked into the doorway. What they saw, surprised them. Their mouth agape, eyes wide like saucers.

 

 

**“Keith!?”**

.

 

.

 

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment and tell me what you think?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life gets intense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank my wonderful and beautiful editor and BETA pal: galaxy-gayrrison
> 
>  
> 
> Songs I listened to: (I don't particularly follow these artists, but meh these were pretty good)
> 
> Africa- Toto  
> Only You- Selena Gomez  
> Friends- Justin Bieber  
> Love Me Now - John Legend  
> Little Things - One Direction

 

Lance sighed. A lot.

 

His stomach ached for steamed rice and stuffed shrimp, but immediately crossed out the latter order.  Ari’s allergic to shrimp. He remembers the day he had to go to the child’s clinic to get Ari checked for any allergies which was the most excruciating sight to see. Lance nearly had decked the lady, but couldn’t because it was her job. She was just helping Ari so he wouldn’t suffer for any future consequences. But still, Ari cried a lot, flailing his short limbs everywhere. Lance stood there, hands trembling to take his son in his arms.

Mrs. Shih was behind the counter. Her red apron stained with different sauce, the crow’s feet around her eyes were deeper than ever, her lips painted with a magenta colour, finger nails covered with chipped yellow nail polish.

“McClain."

“Mei.” He knows that Chinese character, he thinks, it was probably something like beautiful .

“What can I get you?” She asked, wiping her hands with a cloth. A fire boomed behind her. It used to scare Lance when he first moved here, but now it’s been permanent fixture in restaurant.

“Four boxes of steamed rice, empress rolls, some stir-fry…”Lance listed, trying to re-call Pidge’s length order. Mrs. Shih stared at him blankly with her tired, tired eyes. One of the things Lance liked about Mrs. Shih was that she had a surprisingly good memory, not even jotting it down in a notepad.

 

_“I used to be famous, y’know?"_

_“Really?” Lance said, leaning against the counter. A large fire erupted behind her. Lance recoiled from the heat. He nearly tripped himself from the sudden flames. Mrs. Shih did not even flinch._

_She sighed, tapping her fingers on the table, nails colored orange with polish. “Yes. It was good time for me. I was on television back in Taiwan,” she muses._

_“In where?”_

_“It was just some game show for talented people.”_

_“What did you do?”_

_“I could remember things.”_

_“That doesn’t sound too impressive,” Lance said._

_Mrs. Shih merely smiled, shaking her head. “There was this huge screen. It had all these numbers, all scrambled in one mess. It was three hundred different numbers. Ten rows in a series.”_

_“and you remembered it?”_

_“Yes. I recited every single number as if it was at the back of my hand,” she chuckled._

_Lance smiled at this. The woman in front of him was shed a new light._

_“Okay, now I’m impressed,” Lance said. “So you’re working here now.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Why?"_

_“I got married.”_

 

“Here you go,” she said handing the package of food to him. Lance thanked her, bidding her a good night.

“McClain,” she called out before he left through the doors.

“Yeah, Mrs. Shih?”

“How is your son?” 

Lance grinned, “He’s doing great. You know he could count up to fifty now in Chinese.”

 Mrs. Shih laughed, “That is very impressive. Smart boy.”

“He is related to me,” Lance said, thumb pointing to himself.

“I don’t know about that.”

Lance pouted, “Meiiiii! very Kèbó!”

“You have been learning.” 

“Bye, Felicia.”

Mrs. Shih stared at his retreating form. She had a frown marring her features.

“Who is Felicia?”

 

 

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

 

 

Lance placed the take out onto the dining table. He let out a huge yawn. He started grabbing some plates, placing them on the table mats. He is not a heathen, mind you. He took a look around the apartment,noticing the strewn pieces of toys around the living room. He groaned exasperation, dragging a hand down his face.

 

“Ari!” Lance called, cupping his hands together.

 

No answer.

 

“Ari!” He called once more. He checked his room. “Ari?”

 

“Not here…” Lance muttered. He whipped out his phone and called Shay.

 

“Where’s Ari?” Lance asked, cutting to the chase.

 

“Hi, Papá!” Ari answered. Lance sighed in relief.

 

“Hey, baby,” Lance said. He pressed his back on the wall. He stared at the photos of Delilah and Mike in front of him.

 

“Where are you?” Lance asked. He wiped a bit of dust off Delilah’s face.

 

“We’re getting ice cream!” he cheered. Lance imagined him doing his happy little dance. He laughed at the image. “Blueberry! Blueberry!” 

 

_“You alway get blueberry,” Lance commented, eyeing the treat. “Don’t you like variety?”_

_“I like blueberry,” Delilah commented, adjusting the sunglasses perched on her nose. “Blueberry is the best flavour.”_  

 _“Excuse me? that’s a lie.”_  

_“You have no taste,” Delilah clicked her tongue, “What the hell is chocolate jalapeño?”_

_“God’s gift to humanity.”_  

_“Gross,” she said, gagging. “What’s the point? isn’t ice cream supposed to like cool off? hence the ‘ice’ in ‘ice cream’.”_

_Lance took a long lick of the treat, “You’re just boring.”_

_“I am not boring,” she stuck out her tongue._  

_“You look like you gave a Smurf a blowjob,” Lance said, and then proceeded to shove his ice cream to her open mouth._

_“Mmffff!” Delilah’s eyes widened, her hands flailing in distress. She glared at her brother before smashing her cone to him, the wafer’s crushed bits landing into his eyes_  

 _“Tonto,” she hissed._  

 

“Go get me some, okay?” Lance said, smiling at the memory. “Tell auntie Shay I’ll pay her back later.”

“There’s no need,” Shay answered. He heard the sound of a bell ringing. They must have left. 

“Shay—“

“It’s just ice cream, Lance.”

“…Okay.”

 

 

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

 

 

The trio sat together in one table. The dining room bathed in warm lighting from the lamp a few feet away. The ceiling fan humming above them. Ari was fumbling with his chopsticks. Lance ate his steamed rice in ease. Pidge was chewing on their empress rolls. There was an empty seat next to them, announcing Hunk’s absence.

“Is Hunk coming by?”

Pidge swallowed her roll with an audible gulp. “He said he’s spending dinner with his moms.”

“I guess we have leftovers then,” Lance said. There was sudden thump above them followed by string of muffled curses. Lance stared at the ceiling questioningly. A loud crashing sound startled Lance. An even louder louder string curses followed.

“Is that the new tenant?”

Pidge was oddly quiet. “I guess.”

“I think they’re having some trouble,” Lance commented. “Ah—do you think they had dinner yet?”

“Dunno.”

Pidge was being so weird. “I’m going up there.”

Pidge choked on their roll. Ari stared at them with concern. He patted their back helpfully. Pidge controlled their breathing, and gave Ari a strained smile.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Pidge said hoarsely.

“Why?”’ Lance asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I think it’s a serial killer.”

Ari stared at them in horror. He immediately bolted out of his chair and into his room. He slammed the door. The sound echoing in the hallway.

“What the heck, Pidge?” Lance said, frowning. He glanced at the closed door. “Don’t say stuff like that."

“Sorry.”

Lance sighed, and got up from his chair. “Go comfort Ari, or something.”

“What, where are you going?” Pidge asked frantically. “Are you going up?”

“Yeah, I’m going to give them the rest of the take out.”

“Lance—wait, I can do that.”

“Hey, you said you’d help out with Ari from now on,” Lance said, ruffling their hair. He wiggled his finger at them. “Too late. No backsies.“Besides,” he said, grabbing the carton from the table, “They might be hot,” Lance winked.

“Lance!”

It was too late. He had left through the door. The sound of it closing cut Pidge’s protests. They dropped their head on the table. The food jostled.

 

 

 

“Fuck.”

 

 

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

 

 

The building they lived in wasn’t spectacular, but it wasn’t that bad either. Considering the rent and space the place offered, it was a good deal. Lance, Hunk, and Pidge rented one of the bigger flats in the building. It wasn’t like Lance’s college apartment, which was when the electricity came short and blew up random moments or when water would leak from the ceiling.

Lance crept up the stairs, the floorboards creaking with every step. He rounded the corner to the hallway. He thought of Mr. Robin’s door, which was two doors down the hall. He put on a pleasant smile and fixed the collar of shirt. He ran a hand down his messy hair. He knocked on the door which had label 402. He heard a voice from the other side, and then followed by footsteps.

When the door opened to reveal the tenant, Lance’s entire body went cold.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

_They were in the abandoned laboratory, behind a rack of test tubes and chemicals. Lance sat on the table, his body pressing against a stack of books. His fingers tangled in dark tendrils of hair. His legs were wrapped around the person’s middle, trying to pull them closer to his body, to feel the heat against his skin. He wanted to feel the burn._

_There were hands on his hips, squeezing on them. He could feel the bruises starting form because that’s the way he likes it. The way they liked it. His fingers clenched hard on his hair. His mouth on his, tongues sliding past against each other. His eyes were closed, and felt the smirk that was pressed on him. He felt his bottom lip being nipped by sharp teeth._

_One hand slipped away from his tight hold, moving to cradle the jaw of the boy in front. His thumb gently caressing the other boy’s cheek._

_He pulled away, and the groan of disapproval emitted from the person. Lance eyes were still closed. Both their chests were heaving, breaths coming in short gasps. Lance placed both hands on his jaw. He licked his swollen lips. The person looked up to him with their chin up and half-lidded eyes. His lips were sinfully red. Dark eyes that sometimes Lance noticed would change when light them, from a dark grey to a much lovelier colour—their purple gaze rested heavily on Lance. He could get lost in those eyes, swimming in those violet pools,bathed with desire. He tried to swallow down the moan, but the bite became harder, more painful. Fuck._  

_“Keith…” He whispers hoarsely. He bit his lip, and then those eyes flicked to them, and then came back to meet his. “I…I think I love you.”_

_Keith let out a throaty chuckle. He chewed his own lip. The metal pierced on them glinted dangerously against the hazy afternoon light. The golden light casted a shadow on his face, making it more intense. That’s one word Lance can describe Keith. It rolled in his tongue easily. It fit Keith properly._

 

**Intense**

 

 

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

 

 

He didn’t look that much different. He still had that annoying piercing on his lip, the one that Lance like to play with his tongue. The one where he’s accidentally cut his own lip when they kissed a bit more roughly. The row of piercings on his right ear. The dark shadows under his sharp gaze, which used to roll into the back of his head when Lance nipped a particular part of his neck. The spot closest to the jugular. Lance wanted to slap himself when his gaze flitted to that same spot instantly. He wore tank top that was bunch up to his stomach, showing: that freaking six-pack that Lance loved to trail his fingers on. The long jagged scar from the motorcycle accident. His tattoos on his arms, faded due to time. Lance could still remember every crevice where the ink dipped. Then there was the one which still drove Lance crazy, the one where it had his first name in cursive because Keith loved rolled it in his tongue, loved the way the syllables came out way lewd.

And for fuck's sake, the only thing anyone can pull off, the motherfuckin’ dead give away. He’d recognize that mullet anywhere.

“What the cheese?!”

“Cheese?” Keith raised a thick eyebrow, oh and he got that pierced too. He stared at Lance quizzically.

“You, you—!” Lance gritted out, and face palmed. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I…do I know you?”

Lance saw red.

“What do you mean do I know you !?”

“Um…”

“You’re an asshole, Kogane.”

“Dude, I don’t know you?”

“My name is Lance McClain!”

“…McClain.”

“Ring any bells, motherfucker?” Jesus, it’s been like seven years.

Keith stared at him. His eyes running up and down. He grabbed a pair of glasses from his side. Since when did Keith have glasses? Was he Velma from Scooby-doo? Then as if a bucket of freezing water dropped on him, his body jolted, eyes widening in recognition.

“Lance?” Keith said, gawking. “As in Alejandro?”

“Don’t call me that!” Lance growled, stomping his foot. “You have no right to call me that anymore, Kogane.”

“What you prefer me call you McClain all over again?!” Keith said, teeth bared. The sharp canine still obvious as ever. “Jesus, are you still on about that bullshit rivalry you made up?”

“What! You and I both know we were neck and neck,” Lance said, narrowing his eyes. He can’t they're still arguing about this. “Ever since you dropped out, I looked for you!”

“I never asked you to!”

“Well, screw you,” Lance hissed, poking his chest with his finger. “I’ve been wanting to say that all these years, asshole.”

“Al-“

“No, you don't get to talk!” Lance snaps, clenching his hands. “You had your chance seven years ago.” _The same year when all shit came and exploded in my face._

**Where the fuck were you, Keith?**

“Lance, I had to go,” Keith reasoned, his knuckles turning white. “You don’t—you don’t know what happened. You don’t know the circumstances.”

 

 

_._

_._

_._

 

 

_“Can you please just talk to me?"_

_“We’ve been over this."_

_“You keep doing this. You keep bottling up these feelings, and then you lash out to me. That’s not fair."_

_“I don’t have time for this.”_

_“No! I hate to break it to you, but a relationship is a two way street.”_

_“Let go of me!”_

_“No!”_

_“Lance, get off me!”_

_“Why do you keep doing this!? You need to tell me what you’re thinking, I-I… I can’t read you.”_

_“Don’t do that.”_

_“Do what?”_

_“That look when you’re about to cry and play victim.”_

_“What? What the fuck are you talking about?”_

_“See—you’re doing it again.”_

_“This? This is me calling you out on your bullshit.”_

_“Jesus, that’s it. I’m done.”_

_“What.”_

_“I can’t keep doing this.”_

_Lance is silent. They’re in an abandoned corridor. No one is here, but Lance won’t be surprised if anyone heard them. Keith isn’t looking at him. His face feels wet. Oh, he’s crying. Keith’s been making him cry a lot these days. He doesn’t know why he even tries anymore. He feels like he’s been crying a liter of tears per day._

_“Ah…” Lance is shaking his head, laughing sardonically. He’s moving backward, spinning his heel, and feel the world move in a rush. “Damn.”_

_“What? Al—“_

_“You have done this to me…again, again, and again,” he’s trying to keep it in, but it’s impossible at this point. “Keith… I can’t keep doing this.”_

_Keith is silent, still staring at the floor. His boots are dirty._

_“You…keep ending us. Telling me that ‘this is the last time’,” Lance bites. He’s so tired for giving in all the time. He wants this to end. “Telling me you have to do this thing you won’t tell me. Then you come back to me, telling me you’re sorry and then screw me, then just break up.”_

_“I—I…sorry.”_

_“This is the last time.”_

_“…okay."_

_“This is the last time. ”_

_“Okay.”_

_“I’m breaking up with you,” Lance lets out. “I’m. Breaking up. With. You.”_

_“Okay.”_

_“Keith…you…I love you,” Lance said, covering his eyes. “I do.”_

_“I don’t understand you,” Keith whispers, and now he’s mad. Wow. “You break up with me, then you say you love me?”_

_“Because I do, but I just can’t help you anymore,” Lance said, sniffing. “You’re fucking toxic, Keith… **you’re too intense. ”**_

_“…Okay. I guess we’re over then.”_

_“…I really didn't want to.”_

_“Me neither.”_

_“But we have to.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“…Fuck.”_

_Keith checks his watch. It’s the one thing Lance gave him for his birthday. “I need to go.”_

_He leaves without a word, but Lance calls him. Keith looks kind of irritated, but he does stop._

_“Keith,” Lance croaks, “D-Do you love me?”_

_He widens his eyes. He averts his eyes and bites his lip._

_“I’m sorry.”_

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

 

_Lance was crying his fucking eyes out. He’s in his bathroom in his really shitty apartment. He’s biting his fist, teeth marks embedded on it. He’s been punching the wall. The tiles are cracked, little bits falling fall off from it._

_He calls Delilah._

_“Deli—“_

_“Lance?”_

_“Ah—Mike?”_

_“Hey, are you okay?”_

_“Yeah, I’m…good.”_

_“What happened?” he heard him shut a car door. “Lila's still talking to some of the higher-ups.”_

_“Oh-oh…you’re in that meeting ?”_

_“Yeah! It’s…really important to her, you know? I’ve never seen her so fired up. Haha.”_

_Lance has to laugh. Yeah, she’s been talking about it non-stop. “She’s been yapping about it for weeks.”_

_“Mhhmm, listen, Lance. What’s wrong? I’m your brother, you can tell me anything.”_

_“Well…” Lance started wryly. “Keith and I broke up.”_

_“Again?”_

_“Yeah. This is the last time though, I’m sure of it.”_

_“Ah—that sucks. I mean not really? ‘Cause screw that guy.”_

_“I already did.”_

_He knows Mike is blushing like a schoolgirl right now._

_“It’s…been alright. I guess?”_

_“Lance, just…it’s okay to feel bad about it,” he said. Lance is scratching the cheek where his tiny mole is located. It’s a nervous tick, Mike once said, “You and Delilah are sort of the same? I mean you guys just radiate happiness. It’s blinding. I get it, positivity is great and all…but keeping that negative feelings is toxic. Don’t feel guilty for having those emotions.”_

_“Mike, I just don’t want people to worry,” Lance said, and then bites his fist again. “It’s easier to just…smile and forget.”_

_“That’s the thing,” Mike said dryly, “It’s just…what’s the right word…gross? Pathetic? I’m sorry if that’s too blunt. I’m just trying to say, faking positivity when it’s not even real or sincere. Feeling stuff for bad things like break-ups is nothing to be guilty over.”_

_“But…I’m fine,” Lance protested, leaning against the toilet. “Like, seriously. I’m happy we broke up. Fuckin’ super!”_

_“Yeah, you’re not fooling me, bud,” Mike said. “It’s okay to feel bad. No one’s going to judge you for that. Especially not Delilah. She does that too, pretend when things are okay, but it’s not. It worries me a lot. That’s why we talk.”_

_“Marriage,” Lance scoffed._

_Mike laughs. It’s nice. “Yep. You’re going to be there someday.”_

_“Maybe,” Lance said. “Still not ready.”_

_“You're young, be free.”_

_“You’re like three years older than me, Mike.”_

_“And I feel like I’m forty,” he groans. “If it makes you feel better, we finally got those ultrasound photos.”_

_“OH! What really? Hand the gooooooods, bro.”_

_“Mhm,” he hummed. “Lance?"_

_“Yeah, Mikey-moo?”_

_“You can cry now.”_

_And he does._

_“Mike! I miss him so much,” Lance cried into the receiver. “I fucking love him so much. It hurts. LIKE A BITCH!”_

_“I thought—thought we could have made it? I thought we were it .” His eyes burn, hot tears falling. “He—I thought he was the one. The love of my life and all that shit?”_

_“…Lance. It’s okay. The people we end up with, the ones who we spend the rest of our lives with, aren’t the ones we want. It’s more on the ones we need. You’ll find that person. Hell, you might have met them already.”_

_“You think so?”_

_“Yeah! You…you’re a nice guy, Lance. You’re going to find her…er—or him…them?”_

_Lance had to laugh, “Straight people. You and your heteronormative pronouns.”_

_“I take offence on that,” Mike chuckled, “Hey, since you just got dumped. Would it be too early for me to suggest this new club I know?”_

_“Oh—do tell!” Lance snickered, “I didn’t know Mr. Mike Zhang had a wild party animal side.”_

_“Shut up, little brother.”_

_“That only works on Delilah, bro,” Lance replied. “Let’s stick with bros.”_

_“Right, bro.”_

_“You’re so awkward, oh my god!”_

_“Do you want to know the club or not?”_

_“Okay, okay! Jesus.”_

_Mike tells him the club’s name and address. He bid him goodbye, something about some important lady calling his attention. “See you, bro.”_

_Lance sighed._

_He checks the bathroom window._

_“Wet out tonight, huh.”_

 

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

.

 

Lance doesn’t really remember what happened after that. He didn’t bring the take-out when he came home. Pidge wasn’t on the table, but he can hear giggling in Ari’s room. He creeped into the slightly ajar door.

It’s a sight to behold. Lance really wished he charged his phone because this was rarer than a leprechaun holding a four-leaf clover riding a unicorn over a double rainbow as it shot laser beams to giant purple cats.

“Blue Paladin! Help me, Zarkon is going to kill me!” Pidge yelled green bucket over their head. They held a matching green tambourine in their hand. They were currently tied up by a jump rope.

“Mwahaha! No one can stop me, Zarkon, the evil overlord of the Galra Empire!” he heard a very badly-impersonated voice. He peeked closer. It was Shay wearing a purple blanket as cape and yellow-tinted sunglasses perched on her nose. “Green Paladin, your time has come! Die!”

“Not on my watch!” Hunk jumped in. He held a giant nerf gun he bought from Ebay. He wore a yellow knitted beanie. “Powchh-Powchhh-EEEErrrhggg-POWCH!”

“Time out! that’s not how it sounds like,” Pidge interjected, still tied in improvised ropes. “It’s technically Pa-chew Pa-chew!”

“I apologize, Pidge,” Shay said, “I believe it is more ‘Zuuu zuuu!’”

“What the heck, Shay?” Pidge asked, flabbergasted. “You’re crazy.”

“Wrong,” Hunk said.

“Besides, you’re Zarkon,” Pidge said, pointing with one tiny finger peeking out the restraints. “Your argument is invalid.”

Shay made an offending sound.

“Um! I think it’s more ‘Pow pow!’” Ari corrected.

The adults started making more arguments, not even sparing a poor innocent child with their nonsense.

Lance decided it was time to come out from his hiding place, “I believe Ari is right.”

“You think Ari is always right,” Pidge deadpanned.

“Not always!” Lance said, putting Ari on his shoulders. “You still have to eat your vegetables."

“Blegh.

“What! Ari, you offend vegetarians everywhere,” Lance scolded. “Even Papa eats salads.”

“Excuse me? Lance you don’t even like salads. You just order it cause you think you’re healthy,” Pidge scoffed.

“Says the one who eats McDonalds for breakfast.”

“Not matter how many times you tell me gross facts about them, I will never stop,” They said

Hunk said, scratching the back of his head. “Also their salads aren’t even healthy. Like at all.”

“Whatever,” Lance picked up the lion hat from the ground, and placing it on his head. “Blue Paladin, It is me. Your lion, the sentient flying robot cat.”

“Alright, Blue!” He held up his blue nerf gun. “Let’s gooo and kick some galra butt!”

“Pow pow!”

.

 

.

 

.

_“Lala, you’ve been staring at him for like an hour now.”_

_“Hmmm?” she hummed. “What was that?”_

_“C’mon, you can go ask his name.”_

_“Oh, I know his name,” she grinned, blowing a kiss at the dark haired boy sitting on the bench. His finger constantly pushing the round glasses up to his nose, a book laid on his lap. Lance knows that cover. To Kill a Mockingbird. “It’s Mike. Mike Zhang.”_

_“And you know that how?”_

_“Instagram.”_

_“You’re a stalker.”_

_“Don’t act like you don’t do it too,” she said, eyeing at him with the corner of her eye. “Also get a haircut. I think you look cute with shorter hair.”_

_Lance blew the long bangs off his face. “Maybe.”_

_“Oh my god, I think he saw me.”_

_“Considering that you've been here for over an hour. I’m surprised he hasn’t noticed you making goo-goo eyes at him fifteen minutes ago.”_

_“Shut up, forehead,” she hissed, taming her wild curls. They were sun-bleached, making it a more golden brown. Almost blonde. That would be funny, Lance thought, she’d finally live up to her blonde moments._

_“Stop calling me dumb.”_

_“I didn’t even saying anything.”_

_“I can tell by that look you do.”_

_“What look?"_

_“The one where you blink twice, and twitch your nose. That’s your I-think-you’re-dumb look.”_

_“That’s slightly creepy, Lala.”_

_“Okay, I’m going in there.”_

_“Good luck, soldier.”_

_She walked towards the lone figure, bouncing in every step. She stood in front of him, smiling with the winning McClain grin. The one with bright teeth, crinkled eyes, and an upturned nose. The boy immediately blushed, scratching the back of his neck. His glasses fell off his face. He scrambled off his seat, but Delilah beat him to it. She grabbed the glasses and handed them to him. They both laughed. She sat next to him, and they talked. The tree shielding them from the afternoon sun._

_Lance licked his ice-cream._

_Blueberry._

_He can hear their conversation, and it's sweet. Cute, even._

_“Hi!”_

_“Er—hello?”_

_“I've noticed you reading that for awhile…is it good?”_

_“This? Oh yeah, it’s pretty good,” Mike said, awkwardly fiddling with the book._

_“So…you like reading?”_

_“Yeah, yes, yes! I do.”_

_“Haha, you seem excited.”_

_He bit his lip. “It’s an exciting part.”_

_Delilah looks down, “You have a callous on your left.”_

_“I write a lot. So, I got this bump. Lefties.”_

_“I hear left-handed people are creative.”_

_“Perhaps,” he laughed. “Are you left handed?”_

_“Actually, yes.” She giggled, showing her left hand. There’s bump there too. “I’m an art major. So, no surprise?”_

_“You seem like the artsy type.”_

_“Really now?”_

_“You have paint all over you,” he says, looking amused. “It’s not that far of a stretch.”_

_“And you’re an English Major?” She indicates the book and the messenger bag._

_“History, actually,” he says awkwardly. “I like it. Time, y’know?”_

_“Time?”_

 

_“Yeah! It’s sort of beautiful. If you think about it that is just happens. These people invent things in those eras. Like it seems impossible then until it’s done. They dedicate themselves to these things, not wasting an hour, a second. It’s sort of inspiring—I’m rambling. I’m totally rambling.”_

 

_She laughed, patting his shoulder. “No, no. It’s fine. I like it.”_

_He groaned, dropping his face onto his hands. “No one likes it when I ramble. They think it’s weird, kind of? They think I’m too much…of a pushover. I ramble when I’m nervous. Sorry.”_

 

_“Are you nervous because of me?”_

 

_“What! No, I mean…uh? Kind of? Maybe…It’s cause like you’re really pretty and adorable and you’re laugh is so cute, and you’re Delilah McClain…and oh shi—“_

_Delilah looked like a cat who got the cream. “You know me?”_

_“Ah—Everyone knows you, actually. You’re pretty famous.”_

_She laughed._

 

_Mike ducked his head down. “All this talk about time…” he says wryly, averting his gaze to the side. “Is really wasting your time, huh?”_

_“No, quite the opposite,” she says, smiling impishly. “Time you enjoy wasting is time never wasted. Make sense?”_

_“Perfect sense,” he nodded. “Agh—I’m really not good at this."_

_“What is this?”_

_“Flirting?”_

_“You think we’re flirting?”_

_“Wha—Um, no? Unless you want it to be?” he says, wringing his hands. “Do you?”_

_“Yeah. I really do.”_

_A blue butterfly landed on Delilah’s hair. It stayed there, wings fluttering delicately. Mike raised a hand, but retracts it._

_“Wow. That’s really pretty.”_

_“What is?”_

_“There’s a butterfly on your hair…you look really pretty.”_

_Delilah yelped, but the butterfly stays in place. “What! Oh my god.”_

_“Wait, don’t touch it yet!” Mike said. He grabbed his bag, digging his hand into it. In his hand was a camera. “Hold still.”_

_**Snap!** _

_The butterfly flew away, toward Lance, landing onto his hand. He raised it to inspect it. In his vision, behind the tiny butterfly, a motorcycle revs up, and the man takes his helmet off. He shook his hair, dark tendrils going all over the place._

_“Freakin’ Kogane,” Lance muttered. He ignored the blush creeping into his neck._

_“See, you look pretty,” Mike said._

_“Wow, I do. Normally, I don’t look this great,” Delilah said._

_“You can keep it.”_

_“What? No, it’s fine.”_

_“Hey, it’s your face.”_

_“Okay, wait.” She pulled out a pen from her bag, writing a series of digits on the back of the photograph. “Here. Now you have no reason to give it to me.”_

_Mike bloomed into a giant smile. His face was so red, looking like a huge tomato. He laughed breathlessly, clutching his stomach. Delilah joined in, tiny tears leaking out her eyes. She cupped her mouth, muffling the loud noise._

_“Let it go. I really do think your laugh is cute,” he said. “You should do that more. Laugh. It’s never a waste of time. Keep laughing.”_

_“Haha, Okay. I will.”_

_“Do you…want to go out sometime?”_

_“Okay.”_

.

 

.

 

.

_“Mamaaaaaaaaa!” Delilah practically screamed into the living room. She twirled around, her skirt following the movement. Lance was sat in the living room. He had a controller in his hands, playing Call of Duty. He’s a good sniper. I’m the best sharpshooter in the world, Lance thought with a smirk on his face._

_“Ah, Mija?” she comes out, holding Darwin in her arms. Behind her, the twins were firing insults, Margot chasing Coco. “What is it?”_

_“There’s this boy! He makes me laugh, makes me smile so much!” she gushed, still spinning. “And the way he talks gives me butterflies, and…ah! Dios mio, he makes me happy.”_

_“Ooooh, Mija. You’re so beautiful when you’re in love.”_

_“Oi, Mama. She’s been in one date,” Lance said._

 

_“And a thousand more in the future!” Delilah sighed dreamily. “Oi, Coño. You just need to wait. You can’t rush something you want to last forever.”_

 

_Lance rolls his eyes. “Alright. I guess you just found your new favourite pastime.”_

_“You're damn right, little brother.” She collapsed onto the sofa. A stupid smile on her face._

 

 .

 

.

 

.

 

.

_“Delilah, it’s okay,” Lance whispered into her ear._

_The room is dark. Delilah laid in bed. Golden hair splayed all over the pillow. Lance behind her, holding her. She huddled closer to him, so she could feel him against her back. She needs warmth because she’s cold. She’s clutching his shark plushie._

_“I-I don’t understand,” she whispers. Her voice hoarse from crying. “Little brother, I don’t understand.”_

_“Lala, sometimes these things happen.”_

_She cried some more. It’s so painful to see Delilah in pain. It's like the sun is gone forever. The light in her just gone._

_“I was so sure of it. Fuck, he was the one,” she says, curling into a fetal position. “I’m so in love him. It hurts so much.”_

_“Shh. shh. Just cry.”_

_She screams into her pillow. “It was such a dumb fight…It was my fault.”_

_“Lala…”_

_“No, it was. I admit it,” she croaks out, “I’m such an idiot. A really jealous idiot."_

_“Lala… it’s okay. We can’t control the way we feel.”_

_“I shouldn’t have assumed, y’know? I’m so disgusted with myself. I don’t trust my own boyfriend.”_

_“Hey..hey. Don’t think like that, okay?” he whispers, hugging her tighter. “C’mon, you’ll get uglier if you think that.”_

_She jabbed him._

_“Ow!”_

_“Shut up, forehead,” she growls._

_The doorbell rings._

_“I should get that,” Lance whispers softly. “Everyone else is out.”_

_She nodded into her pillow._

_Lance left her, pulling blankets up to her shoulders._

_His socked feet padded to the door. He unlocked the door. His eyes widened._

_It’s Mike. His hair plastered to his forehead. Rain soaked into his clothes. His eyes were red. His chest heaved like he just ran the longest marathon. He gasped like a fish out of water. Lance wasn't sure if it sweat or water sliding down his skin_

_He swallowed a lump. “Is she here?”_

_Lance nodded quietly._

_“Fuck,” he swears. He ran a hand through his wet hair. “C-can I come in?”_

_Lance doesn’t even need to think. He pulled his collar, fisting it. “You. Fix.This.”_

_“I will,” he croaked, and he’s crying. Shit. Lance is so weak, so he lets him in. “I swear, I will."_

_“Give me your coat.”_

_So he did. He showed him Delilah’s old room. “…Go easy on her.”_

_“Lance,” he started. “I’m not going to break up with her.”_

_“I…you’re not?”_

_“Of course not,” he scoffed quietly. “I’m so in love with your sister. It's crazy."_

_Lance sent him wry smile. “Yeah, people who do tend to do that.”_

_“Go, win her back...Bro,” Lance said, punching his shoulder lightly._

 

_He nodded._

 

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

_Lance pressed his ear on the door. They’re talking quietly. He imagined them hugging, Delilah pressing her face on his chest. Mike’s chin propped on her head. Her hand gripping the back of his sweater loosely. Mike cradling her in his arms._

_Man, he wished someone would cradle him in their arms._

_He pressed closer, and he can hear Mike say something._

_“Sometimes, we have to fall apart to realise how much we need to fall back to each other.”_

 

_And then the door gives out, and Lance freaking face planted on Delilah’s floor. He lifted his face nervously._

_Delilah was staring at him with scary, scary eyes. The malice in them defeating every Disney Villain’s._

_“Forehead, you have five freaking seconds to get out of here,” she seethed, her fist trembling._

_Mike laughed nervously, scratching his cheek where the mole is._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie. The reason Keith didn't recognize Lance at first was that he has shitty eyesight LOL. Also Lance changed a lot from back then. Sooooo.  
> Hehehe. This going to be wild.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life gets stricter.
> 
> .  
> .  
> .
> 
> Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.   
> ~Norman Cousins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, fair warning. I may have teared up at one scene LOL.
> 
> I would like to thank my wonderful and beautiful editor and BETA pal: galaxy-gayrrison
> 
> Comments are great! You guys are so nice.
> 
> I'm like updating really quick holy crap.
> 
> Somes songs to Listen:
> 
> I want you back - Jackson 5  
> Little Talks - Of Monster and Men  
> Demons - Imagine Dragons  
> Super Far - LANY (THE ULTIMATE KLANCE SONG. I swear i based their entire relationship from this song NGHHHH)

Lance didn’t like being the strict parent.. His parents have been hard on him when he grew up because the attention was usually focused on the young ones. But they loved him, they really did. Mama never once missed a swimming meet, and Papa was there when he won the science quiz bowl in seventh grade. Yeah, they were great.

But, my god, were they strict.

“Alejo, make sure you do your homework, ha?” Mama would say, and then, “My God, are you still in that number? What are you doing? Go, go! Lazy boy!”

“Alejo, can you take care of Darwin for a while?” Papa would say, and then, “Que? Why is Margot taking care of him? I thought you were older. She is still in still grade school. You? What are you, ha?”

“Alejo, pick that up! I’m not your maid.”

“Alejo, wash the dishes—don’t give me that look. What do you mean it was your turn yesterday? Huh? I’m telling you to do it now .”

“Alejo, what—what is this?! Is this really your grade? My god, I shouldn’t have bought you that game.”

“What! Why didn’t you ask permission first, Alejo? Go home, right now.” 

“Alejo!"

_“Alejo!"_

**“Alejo!”**

“Yes, Mama!” Lance would say, mopping the floor, and stare enviously at his sister lazing on the sofa watching America’s Next Top Model.

She’d raised an eyebrow at him and say, “Do your job, Cabron.”

He understood them now. Why they did what they did because no one taught you how to do Real Shit in school. No one told you how to do your taxes, clean your house, how to manage bills, and how to care for a kid—much less single-handedly.

“Ari!” Lance yelled, spotting the mess on the living room. “What is this?”

“Si, Papa?” He popped out from the corner. “Ah, toys.”

Lance sighed, staring at the mess in utter disapproval. “Didn’t I tell you to clean up after you play?”

“Si, Papa,” he said, not even looking guilty. “But I’m tired.”

“Tired? You think people will let you off the hook because you’re tired?”

“…Si?”

“No, they won’t,” Lance said, rubbing his forehead. “Welcome to the real world, go clean up. I need to do the dishes.”

Ari stood in his place, staring at his father with dark eyes. “No.”

“Ari,” he said steely. “Ari.”

“No.”

Oh, he’s going to pull that card. Here we go. Lance heaved a breathed, and looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Aristotle Michael Xavier McClain.”

Ari yelled, “Papa, you know I can not say my name like that!”

“THAT’S WHY WE CALL YOU ARI!”

“STOP YELLING AT ME.”

“CLEAN YOUR MESS.”

“NO.”

Ari started screaming, running and kicking his legs. Which was okay, not as bad before. Ari had…bad tempers, you could say. He had more intense emotions than most children his age. Again, it was struggle for Lance to handle, but that was part of Ari. He had to accept this. At least it wasn’t like last year, he grimaced.

 

 

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

 

 

_“Papa, Miraloooooo!”_

_Lance twisted his snapback. His eyes widened, and whipped his head to Pidge. They looked pale, staring at him with equally as wide eyes. He glared at them with burning fervour hotter than a thousands suns._

_“You idiot."_

_“I didn’t know he would get it!”_

_“Who leaves a metal bat to a child’s reach!?”_

_Lance sighed shakily, he walked to Ari slowly who looked at him with excited eyes. “Ari, that’s nice, can you give me the bat? You can be the pitcher.”_

_Ari frowned. Fuck. “I wanna be the batter.”_

_“No!— I mean no, no. I wanna be the batter first okay? Let Papa be the batter.”_

_“I want to be the batter,” Ari repeated, tightening his hold on the metal motherfucking bat. “I. Want. Batter.”_

_“Okay! You can be the batter. Just, let’s get the one on the table—“_

_“I want this one,” Ari said. He swung the bat, and Lance nearly had a heart attack. “Pidge gave it to me.”_

_He snapped his head back to Pidge. They shook their head._

_“No, Ari,” Lance shook his head. “They didn’t it. You have to ask permission first.”_

_“…Pidge?” Ari called out, the bat swinging. “Can I borrow it?”_

_“Uh—No?”_

_And Lance never saw Ari so…pissed._

_“AAAAAAGH!”_

_“ARI— Wait! No, no!” Lance backed away quickly. “No! Bad! Bad!”_

_“Your son isn’t a dog, jack ass!”_

_“My son is also going to smash my skull in, so shut your quiz—MOTHERFUCKER! AH, AH, ARI, NO—!”_

_Hunk came in, holding a bunch of corn dogs, “I’m back! Wait, why is Ari holding—Oh my god, he’s going to hit us with it. Pidge, you idiot.”_

_“It’s not my—OW!”_

_“Ari, I just got here,” Hunk said nervously, backing away with the corn dogs. “Let’s talk about this—OW, OW!”_

_Papa and friends went home with a lot of bruises that day._

_Pidge was also banned from any future baseball games_

“Ari, you need to clean up your mess,” he pushed his head away, Ari kept throwing punches in the air. He is not getting hit by those little hands. Do not be fooled, they were as heavy as bricks. He still has a bruise from last week.

“When I was younger, you used to clean up my mess.”

“Yeah, but you do realize you're still young?”

“If I clean it up, can I watch Voltron some more?”

He really tried to give in. It felt like he was the one being taunted by a prize. But nope, parenting books told you what were the right thing to do and also his wise mother. The woman raised seven kids. She was made of iron, harsh glares, and Spanish insults.

“No, Ari.”

And then we have the spitfire Spanish tirade of insults. Lance closed his eyes, and counted to ten. Patience yields focus, Shiro said. Patience yield—

"No me importa una mierda de lo qué digas!"

Lance jaw dropped. He narrowed his eyes, channeling his inner Mama. “Ari! I will not allow that kind of disrespect in this house.”

Ari stuck his tongue out. It painfully reminded him of Delilah.

Alright, lesson of the day: Do not swear in front of your damn kid.

“Go to your room.”

Which he did, not even bothering to clean up his mess. He slammed the door loudly. Lance grabbed a pillow, and screamed into it. Yeah, Ari can be brat. He isn’t any different from other kids. He’s not always cute…nope. He is far from cute when he’s in one of those ‘moods’. Like a cute kitten turning into a ferocious lion. No wonder his name was Ari .

.

 

_._

 

_._

_“What are you doing?”_

_“Googling.”_

_“Googling what?”_

_“Your kid’s name.”_

_“Oh? Hm, never really thought much about the meaning.”_

_“Yeah, okay, the only meaning behind Ari is ‘you got me movin’ side to side.” He snorted._

_He got whacked in the head for that._

_“That doesn’t even hurt anymore,” Lance said, typing away. “Should I be concerned?”_

_“It's cause there’s nothing in your skull.”_

_“First of all, Rude. Secondly, RUDE.”_

_“Oh oh, there ‘Ari!’”_

_“Hm, lion in Hebrew. The American is eagle. Lion-eagle?”_

_“Oooh, sounds dangerous.”_

_“Sounds like it’s going to be a pain in the ass.”_

 

 

 

.

 

.

 

.

Lance picked up the last of the toys, placing them into the crate next to the television. His feet were sore from stepping the hundreds of pieces of legos. Hunk was so extra in gifts. When Ari was three, he bought him a Millennial Falcon Lego set. The only thing Lance could have thought was this was going to be a choking hazard, oh my god.

Pidge was no better. They built Ari a mother friggin’ lightsaber. He was impressed for about five seconds until the thing cut his IKEA table that he manage to set up all by himself, which took about the entire night. He promptly ordered a new one, and forced the duo to build it.

Yeah, okay. He admits it. Ari can be violent.

Really violent.

For fuck’s sake, Ari stabbed his leg with a fork.

A fork.

And there was that Home Alone bullshit he pulled on Hunk and Pidge. The kid was Macaulay Culkin reincarnate. The both of them were slightly scared and proud of the boy, saying he had a future in engineering and strategy.

_“He’s five.”_

_“Age is merely a number,” Pidge said as he helped them untangle from the toilet paper restraint._

_Shay was washing Hunk’s hair, which was coated with super glue. “Face it, McClain. Your kid’s a mad genius.”_

It's not like Lance was irresponsible. Ari was like…two feet? He doesn't know how he gets this shit! He’s still blaming on Pidge and Hunk. Ari knew how to freaking pick locks. He doesn't even allow Ari with scissors. He had a really long chat with his teacher.

He doesn’t know where it came from. Delilah was pretty rough on him when they were growing up, but she didn't know how to tie her shoelaces until she was fourteen.

So he did the logical thing. He called Mike’s mom. Mrs. Zhang.

Okay, Lance is pretty scared of Ari’s paternal grandmother. She was…somehow similar to his mother. She was more on the quiet side, but HOHOHO. It’s always the quiet ones who bite the hardest.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mrs. Zhang! This is Lance.”

“Lance? Ah, Alejandro. Delilah’s brother.”

“Yes, yes,” he asked, twirling the cord of the telephone. Wow, he can’t even believe he owns of this prehistoric item. “I was going to ask if…Mike was any trouble growing up?”

“What. There is nothing wrong with Mài Kè…he was the sweetest boy.”

“Yeah, but like did he throw any tantrums?”

“Tantrums…Oh, yes. He was…stubborn.”

Lance winced. “How so?”

“He used to set fire to my rose bushes when I cut him off from his books. What a memory.”

Jesus Christ.

“Oh, and there was that one time he left his brother on a tree branch and that time he stabbed his chopstick on his father’s hand…he had reasons, he says .” She muses, even chuckling slightly. Almost wistful.

Yeah. Alright.

“That’s all I needed to know.”

“Is there something wrong with Aristotle?”

“It’s nothing. I was curious about it is all.”

“Alright…Make sure he visits us, okay? I miss my grandson,” which was said in a…very threatening tone. He felt a shiver travel down his spine.

“Right. Okay. We will,” Lance replied, and paused. “Hey, Mrs. Zhang. What did you do when he did those tantrums?”

 

 

.

 

.

 

.

“Ari?” he opened the door, leaving a slit of light into the room. “Are you awake?”

No answer.

“…Monkey?”

“Little…Monkey?”

“I’m not a monkey…” he mumbled.

“…What about lion?”

“…Okay.”

“C’mon, cub. I got something new to show you.”

He climbed out from his bed, shuffling towards him. His head down, not meeting his gaze. Lance placed a hand to his back as they walked down the hall. The lights were off, only pale blue glow in the end of the hall was the only source of light.

“…What is this?”

Lance smiled mischievously, gesturing wildly at his creation.

“It’s a fort.”

“…A fort?”

“Yep, it’s a blanket fort,” Lance said, crouching into the entrance. He motioned Ari to follow him. “Come on in, cub.”

Ari went in using all four his limbs. His mouth spread into a toothy smile. He shuffled closer to his father, snuggling close. The soft pillows sinking from his weight.

“Wow…Papa, I can see stars.”

“Yeah, I borrowed one of Pidge’s gizmos. It’s supposed to replicate different solar systems,” he explained, showing him a blue globe. The light shadowed Ari’s face, his blue eyes bluer than ever before. Shining brighter than any star, twinkling in wonder. He placed his tiny hand on the globe, the images shifted. A whole new world was introduced. He laughed, staring at his father with loving eyes.

“You like it? It’s pretty neat, huh?”

“Neat!” he said, playing with the globe some more. The images kept shifting, colours that you can never have imagined, planets in different sizes floating in orbits. It was a magical moment, they were in this quiet bubble of theirs. Spinning in their orbit, exploring the universe, discovering its secrets. Ari looked at him, quiet for a moment. His eyes turned glassy, and he sniffled.

“Papa…I’m sorry.”

“Ari, it’s okay,” He said softly, huddling closer to his small body. “I mean not really? You need to learn to control yourself. It’s not…good to hurt people.”

“…But I’m not good.”

“Why?” his heart cracked. “That mess was just a one time thing, it’s in the past.”

Ari’s tears were freely flowing now, his bottom lip wobbling. His hands gripped the pillows tightly. He shook his head. It reminded him of Mike, he thought sadly. He had his mother’s colours, blue eyes, freckles, and tanned skin, but he looked a lot like Mike. It was…painful to look at him sometimes. He had his hair, the wavy dark raven locks. His crooked teeth. His sad expressions. Lance was thankful he got Delilah’s smile. At least that lived on. Painful, but thankful.

“Ari…it’s okay,” he whispered into his hair. “You just…need to fix things. Fix the bad because that’s we're supposed to do. I’m not going to lie to you, Mijo. The world is full of bad, and I want to keep you safe, but you need to learn how to undo that bad. Learn how to protect yourself and the people you love from the bad…” 

“Papa,” he cried into his shirt. His voice breaking. “I can’t fix what I’ve done.”

Lance chest tightened. They were quiet, the bubble still floating in space like a lost ghost. “What have you done, Mijo?”

“I killed Mama.”

Lance…Fuck. He can’t feel his lungs. He can’t breathe . He held Ari tighter.

“Papa, I make you sad…I hear you cry at night sometimes…you say her name a lot. You…miss her so much. I heard from Auntie Miranda that she would have been here if I wasn't born.”

“Ari, don't ever think that,” Lance said, grabbing his puffy cheeks. “You are a miracle. Mama would…” he gulped. “She would’ve died anyway. Auntie Miranda doesn't know what happened. Okay? She would have died anyway.”

“Papa, I don’t want you to cry…I don’t want you to be sad. Papa, it hurts me. It hurts me so much.”

He can not cry. He forbids himself to cry. He has to be fucking strong Ari.

“Papa…it hurts."

“Ari, don’t…please,” Lance said hoarsely. This hurt more than any broken leg, any scratch. This wound. This wound cut deep, deeper into your skin. Deeper into your bones. It would never fade away, can never fixed. There’s nothing that could have been , they said. Those words were sharper than any knife. Loss. That would do. The pain would never really fade, not entirely. Loss was intertwined with time, like a vital piece in a puzzle. Loss was…Loss became a part of you.

“Have you ever always thought that?”

Ari nodded into his shirt.

_“Lance, just…it’s okay to feel bad about it.” He said as he scratched the cheek where his tiny mole is at. It’s a nervous tick, Mike once said. “You and Delilah are sort of the same? I mean you guys just radiate happiness. It’s blinding. I get it, positivity is great and all…but keeping that negative feelings is toxic. Don’t feel guilty for having those emotions.”_

_“ It’s just…what’s the right word…gross? Pathetic? I’m sorry if that’s too blunt. I’m just trying to say, faking positivity when it’s not even real or sincere. Feeling stuff for bad things like break-ups is nothing to be guilty over. ”_

“Papa?”

“Yeah, Ari.”

“You can cry now.”

And he does.

 

 

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

He lets Ari watch Voltron after that.

It’s Friday, anyways.

 

 

.

 

.

 

.

“ _Mài Kè…he used to make forts when he was younger, I gave him blankets and pillows,” she said, and he can hear so much sadness in it. It’s dripping with it. “He was obsessed with castles, fortresses, and battles. He was so engrossed with history. He never liked going to playgrounds or parks when he was child, always going to the library. He was called the prince of books, do you believe it? He borrowed over a hundred books, and he always returned in time. That was something he was very obsessed with as well. He…used to read in those forts, it was practically library itself. He always did say sorry when he did bad.”_

_“That’s really…nice,” Lance said. “It’s like he never really changed.”_

_“I don’t know about that, time passed…those moods slowly faded away. He used to tell me ‘time heals all wounds’,” she said quietly. “I don’t know. I feel like the wound is still fresh as if it was yesterday.”_

_“I think what Mike meant was time made loss a part of you. Not exactly healing, but the wounds would be there…but it would become a scar.”_

_“…you are wise, Lance.”_

_“Ha, not a lot of people tell me that.”_

_“It’s true,” she responded. “I am glad Aristotle is with you. You are a good man, good father. He will grow up to be great man like yourself.”_

_“I would like it if he grew up like Mike… he always was like a brother to me. I can still remember a lot of his advice. It helped me through a lot of problems.”_

_“Lance…you visit us as well, alright? If he regarded you as a brother, then you are my son as well. Let’s have tea some time.”_

_“That’s…great. Good, actually. Thank you, Mrs. Zhang.”_

_“I miss my son deeply, Lance.”_

_“I miss him too. Delilah…I miss her a lot.”_

_“Yes, she was a beautiful girl. She brought a side I never knew my son had. He seemed livelier every time he came home, smiling more. I was so happy. He used to talk about her all the time, you know? Always saying ‘this girl…I think I love’ her.’ ‘She’s so beautiful, Mama.’ ‘She makes life brighter. I want my life to be brighter than any sun. She’s my sun.’… that boy was so happy. I never knew he could be that happy. I am eternally grateful for Delilah.”_

_“Wow…that’s really poetic.”_

_“It really was. I think he wrote poems about her actually.” She giggled, like a schoolgirl telling secrets. “He always hid them from me. Aiya, so shy! I found them eventually. I could let you read some.”_

_“You know I would never a pass a chance to see Mike’s embarrassing secrets.”_

_“Good, let’s schedule a meet soon. I’m sorry, Lance, but I have to attend my grand daughter’s piano recital.”_

_“Oh, it’s fine! Family first.”_

_She sighed softly. “Lance, you are family.”_

 

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

 

 

The thing is Lance doesn’t think he’s ever going to let go off things. So he’s made a list of them.

  1. His fear of the dark
  2. His love for rain
  3. Eternal punishment from Mama’s Chancla
  4. Ari
  5. Delilah’s death
  6. Mike’s death
  7. that time he drowned
  8. His 21st birthday
  9. Garlic knots
  10. Keith Kogane



Lance loved Keith. He didn’t know if he still did. He’s seen him in the hallways, passing by, like a phantom. It still sent tiny moths in his stomach. His skin itches. His palms get sweaty. So yeah, he’s not sure. It’s been seven years.

Keith and Lance are different. That’s like a universal fact. Lance and Keith. Keith and Lance. Neck and neck. It’s their dynamic. They send each other death glares and love sick glances. They hold hands, but they push each other into walls. Lance loves it when Keith fucks soft and sweet, but Keith craves danger, he craves speed. He loved it rough. Rough enough to leave bruises all over his body. Lance liked it too, but not as much Keith did. In the morning, he’d kiss the nape of his neck, tell him dirty secrets laced with promises, and bite. He’d tell him the bruises are like paint on his body, and it’s so hot. Like he’s some kind of expensive oil painting.

But Lance thought the bruises look like bruises. And he didn’t like it when he’s treated like an object. It’s sort of their dynamic. Their relationship is a painted portrait. Violent strokes, but soft colours. Lance covered the grey, the blanks. He’s blue, like the sky. It’s ethereal like the pale moon. It’s safe. He fixed. Keith ripped the canvas into seams, edges frayed. The red is oversaturated like the bleeding sun, it’s too much. It’s smells like blood. It smells like cheap cologne and old spice.

It’s a messy masterpiece. To be honest.

Lance and Keith are two contrasting colours. They’re too different. People say that’s why they’re perfect for each other. They’ve been rooting for them ever since Lance laid his eyes on him, declared his rivalry and as Keith looked at him with strange eyes, and a chagrined smile. Yeah, he’s not going to forget that.

11. The rivalry.

The one thing that makes Lance and Keith so different is attachment. Lance doesn’t know much about Keith’s background other than he’s an orphan since he was ten. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why he took Ari in. As much as he loved Keith, he was so intense. He was acid. He destroyed. He doesn’t want Ari to grow up like that. Because, yeah, he loved Keith. He wasn’t scared of him, and that’s probably why Keith is so attracted to him. Keith made fear and pushed people away because oh no, a poor orphaned boy with no family, no parents. He and Ari are the same, too similar, and that scares Lance. Keith was one of the unlucky ones because he didn’t grow up with a second chance in a childhood.

Was it ever mentioned that he’s Keith’s first legitimate relationship?

Yeah, he was. And that was so fucking hard.

Because Keith and Lance are different.

Lance clinged. He clinged to a lot of things. He clung to memories, good times, and happiness. He clinged to Keith. He clinged to the notion that Keith would finally be fucking happy.

But Keith.

Keith is so different. He’s distant. He let go. He cut off people like ribbons, and throw them into the air like they are weightless. No substance. They were thin and fragile, and it’s Keith who let them go without blinking. It slipped away from his fingerless gloved hands. He doesn’t think because Keith is rash and relies on instinct, but he cared. He cared a lot, more so than Lance. It’s such a contradiction to who Keith really is. He broke up with Lance and they come back. Keith kept throwing Lance’s ribbon into the wind, but chases it when it goes too far, when it’s too out of reach. Lance’s ribbon is tattered and filled with holes. It’s red because it is dyed in blood.

Keith is an orphan. That is why Lance is scared of him…for him?

Lance and Keith compliment each other. Keith has holes from an abandoned and lost childhood. They’re gaping black holes that destroy everything it touched. Lance is sharp and prickly because people call him dumb and put too much expectations on him. They’re jagged. They’re pointy like his knobby knees. Keith liked to kiss those knees when they’re scraped from road burn.

Lance and Keith. Keith and Lance.

Lance’s thorns fit perfectly in Keith’s wounds. Maybe that’s why they fit. They work. They’re damaged. Collateral damage. Collateral beauty .

So.

Lance doesn’t know if he loves him or not. It’s not like Keith ever said it because he’s too fucking **QUIET**.

**_“Can you please just talk to me?”_ **

**_“You keep doing this. You keep bottling up these feelings, and then you lash out to me. That’s not fair.”_ **

**_“Why do you keep doing this!? You need to tell me what you’re thinking, I-I…I can’t read you.”_ **

**_“This? This is me calling you out on your bullshit.”_ **

**_“You have done this to me…again, again, and again.”_ **

**_“Keith… I can’t keep doing this .”_ **

**_“This is the last time.”_ **

**_“Because I do, but I just can’t help you anymore.”_ **

**_“You’re fucking toxic, Keith…you’re too intense. ”_ **

**_“Keith…”_ ** _He whispers hoarsely. He bit his lip, and then those eyes flicked to them, and then came back to meet his._ **_“I…I think I love you.”_ **

He doesn’t know.

**_“I’m sorry.”_ **

He doesn’t fucking _know_.

 

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

 

 

It’s was surprise. It really was. Like a jump scare. Like freaking Emily Rose popping out of laptop screen because Coco is a little shit.

Lance was drinking a glass of water when he opened the door, he almost spat it out. He swallowed it, coughing as it goes down the wrong tube.

Keith is in front of him, waiting patiently. Which is new. Really.

He isn’t ready for this shit. He just got back from work.

“What do you want, Mullet?”

“Can we talk?” he said roughly. “Please?”

“Why?”

“Because we live in the same building, and I don’t want to piss off anymore people.”

“That’s pretty impossible because…you’re you .”

“Yeah, I guess I deserved that.”

“Okay, fine.” Lance sighed. “Talk.”

“I’m sorry."

“Bye,” Lance says and closes the door. Keith stopped it with his boot.

“Lance, c’mon,” Keith says exasperatedly. “I’m really sorry. I…never wanted to hurt you.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

He winced. “I…I’ll tell you all about what happened. Just not now, some day. But not now.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Okay.”

“Just…please.”

Lance was so weak. It was pathetic.

“Alright, come in,” he said, opening the door widely, motioning to him to get inside with a lazy hand.

“...It’s good to see you again after all these years,” Keith said, not looking him in the eyes. “You’ve changed so much. I’ve missed you.”

This...what the hell? Lance was fuming. Who even says that? He knew Keith’s most precious person in the world is his brother who he hasn’t seen in like a decade. Lance could tell in one glance. When Lance broke up with Keith, he knew it would end up with him just saying ‘okay.’ It’s bullshit. Really unfair. When Keith broke up with Lance, he’d cry and throw a huge fit, begging him to say. Lance tried to get over his dumb ex for like seven years, and he’s not sure if he’s completely over it. He has a right to be pissed. He showed up in his doorstep, and thought they’re okay? After that stupid and tearful break up? You think he can get over that easily?

Really, bitch?

He grabbed his collar, bringing him closer. He could feel a vein pop out.

“Alright, you are under my roof so my rules, edge lord. You play nice, comprende ?”

“Got it.”

He let him go. He grabbed a glass for Keith because his Mama taught him better that. He had to treat a guest well. Even if it was freaking shitty hot as hell ex.

“Okay, speak. Or whatever.”

“I’m—“

“What are you, a broken recorder?” He snapped, glaring at him. “Stop saying that. I get it. No need to repeat a million times. Jesus Christ.”

“..sor—Yeah. I live here now since I got a brother in the city.”

“…You found him.”

“I did. It’s…amazing. Really. He’s a good guy.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks. It’s…different. I got a decent job.”

Lance laughed dryly. “Yeah. I’m not going to forget you making drug deals in your dorm.”

Keith snorted. “I’m not going to miss that. Too risky.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“Yeah. I can pay bills, taxes, and all that adult shit.”

“Good. You deserve a good life, Keith.”

“…Yeah.”

“So…who’s your brother?”

“His name is Takashi.”

“Takashi…Neat.”

“He used to be a soldier. That’s why it was pretty hard to track him, but now he works in this fancy place. It’s nice. I’ve been there.”

“Did you ever finish school?”

“I took online classes…so I guess I did.”

“What do you do?”

“Test-piloting. Mechanical Engineering.”

“…Impressive.”

“Yep.”

God. This is so awkward.

“So…nothing exciting?”

“I don’t think so…I’m still y’know.”

“What?”

“Single.”

Nice one, Keith. You just had to make everything even more awkward.

“Yeah? That’s too bad.”

“I’m not a people person.”

Like Ari.

Keith cleared his throat. “How are you?”

Tired.

“Great. Good at adulting.”

“You busy with…”

“Yeah, I’ve been dating.”

“Oh. That’s good.”

“It’s super.”

Keith sighed, the silence is so painful. “Lance…Could we start over?”

“Depends.”

“Clean slate. No bad blood. I’m not asking you out or anything. I just want to be… fine with you, like friends.”

Damn it. We already established that Lance is weak, right? Okay? okay.

“Yeah…we can do that. Start over,” Lance gives him a small smile.

Keith _grinned_.

JESUS CHRI—

“Lance?” he heard a familiar warm voice, he opened the door.

“Hey, Shay. Where’s—“

 _“PAPAPAPAPAPA!”_ Ari crashed into him. Lance let out harsh breath. He’s jumping up and down, begging to be carried. “I missed you, you’re home early!”

“I am, Mijo,” Lance smiled, ruffling his unruly black hair. “Are you really that happy?”

“Yep!” he gives him a huge smooch. Lance laughed, and kissed the tip of his nose in return. “We made finger painting today! I made Blue, see?” He gets grabs piece of paper from his backpack.

“Oh, who are they?” he asked, pointing out the two stick figures.

“That’s me and that’s you,” he says enthusiastically, vibrating in his hold. “See, we’re both blue Pa-La-Deeeens.”

“Hm, you sure? I could be red.” 

“No.”

Lance winced, “Okay, mijo.”

“Um, Lance?” Shay interrupts, standing awkwardly in the doorway. She glanced at Keith pointedly. “Uhh- so I’ll…just …yeah,” she kissed Lance’s cheek and bids Ari farewell.

“You’re…you have a kid.”

Ari is still. Like really still. Lance glanced at him. He has this blank calculating face, staring at Keith like he’s dissecting him.

“Who are you?”

“Ari!” Lance yelped. He placed him down, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t be rude.”

“I don’t know him.”

“Ari…”

“He has stupid hair.”

“Ari!”

“Get out.”

“Ari! Okay, that’s it. Go to your room.”

He clicked his tongue, wrinkling his nose. “Okay.”

He left, spitting out a Spanish cuss word that Lance really doesn’t want to translate. He…doesn’t even use that word. He’s going to talk to his siblings about this.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, scratching his head. “He’s…not very social to strangers. He’s normally not  like that.”

“Yeah…I can see.”

“Sorry. Ari can be sweet, really. He just has to warm up to people. He’s a tough cookie to crack.”

A cookie made out of cement, Lance thought wryly.

“It’s fine…It’s surprising is all.”

“Yeah! Same, very same. When Ari was born, he was so tiny and pink.”

Keith pales, like paler than he already is. Paper white. “That’s…something...I should go.”

“Hey, Keith. I’m glad you came to talk. I am.” Lance smiled. “Come by and hang out. Don’t be stranger.”

 “I’ll take your word for it.” Flashing his sharp teeth. Lance felt like fainting. “See you.”

Lance closed the door. He leaned into it, sinking to the floor. He covered his face with his hands.

“Fuck my life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEAH. OKAY.
> 
> Ari is sort of based off one of my younger cousins. I love him to deeeeeath, but he can be such a pain in the ass. -_-


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life gets funny
> 
> .  
> .
> 
> “She laughed and danced with the thought of death in her heart.”  
> ― Hans Christian Andersen, The Little Mermaid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank my wonderful and beautiful editor and BETA pal: galaxy-gayrrison
> 
> WARNING:
> 
> THIS CHAPTER INVOLVES CONTENT WITH HOMOPHOBIA AND HOMOPHOBIC SLURS. VIOLENCE. DRUGS. SUBSTANCE ABUSE. BULLYING. and…a lot hurtful shit. 
> 
> AND A LOT OF ANGST.
> 
> YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.  
> .
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> Writing this chapter made me feel emotionally drained for some reason. I think it's because I felt these things as well. Don't eve feel that way kids. Never.
> 
> *also if my spanish is wrong, then feel free to correct me. I'll fix it right away.
> 
> Songs I listened to: This is pretty angsty so excuse my emo ass.
> 
> Chandelier - Sia  
> Love the Way You Lie Part 2- Rihanna  
> Shrinking Universe - Muse

 

Holy crap! So this amazing person **greyvolpe** made a really awesome and beautiful art for this chapter! Check out his works guys,!

[Stability](https://greyvolpe.tumblr.com/post/168053745058/lancejesus-youre-really-going-to-give-up)

 

* * *

 

Lance used to be a bully.

 

That’s one of the hardest things he’s ever admitted to himself because it is not his proudest moment. It was…disgusting really. It haunted him sometimes. It came in flashes. Middle school was a weird time. It was growing up time,worrying about other’s opinions time but that’s a thing he talked about a lot. Growing up something that doesn’t just happen. Because growing up can mean a lot of different things: It could mean a sudden a sudden six feet growth spurt. Getting braces. Getting your ass kicked.

 

For Lance, it meant emotional maturity.

 

He was so immature.

 

It was simply awful when you lose yourself. When you need the most, and you lose it. Childhood becomes something you imperatively need. It was so easy to get caught of up in Life’s bullshit. Terrifyingly easy to let go of childhood, and it goes by faster and faster like freight train. You’re on the rails, chasing this far away ride, but it doesn’t. Because it comes back, it comes back to fucking hit you. The dim light you try to catch, is almost magical like fairy tales. It grows dimmer and dimmer with time, and you have to catch it again or you lose yourself in adulthood. Because that shit fucking _sucks._ Not all fairytales end in happy endings. He learned this hard way. Sometimes it ends in death, ends in tragedy, ends up being bullshit. Disney has the right idea, cover it up like a magic cloak, hide the ugly. It is growing up because sooner or later the cloak will fall revealing the inside.

 

Lance knows because he’s read the _Little Mermaid._

 

Everyone knows the Disney version of the story, in which Ariel and her sassy crab friend, Sebastian, fight off the evil sea witch, and Ariel swims off to marry the man of her dreams, her prince, her happily ever after.

 

In original tale, however, Ariel can only come on land to be with the handsome prince if she drinks a sketchy potion that makes it feel like she is walking on razors at all times. She does, and you would expect her selfless act to end with the two of them getting married. Nope. The prince married a different woman, and the Little Mermaid throws herself into the sea,her body dissolves into sea foam.

 

How’s that for a Prince Charming?

 

Yeah, his Prince is Prince TeQuila. He’s nice and makes him all warm and fuzzy. It’s not Mullet McGee, or whatever. Fuck that guy, seriously.

  

Lance had lost himself so many times. Maybe that’s why people thought he was so dumb. Why he’s such a goofball. Lance believes that if you don’t lose yourself, childhood is re-attachable. Visit Atlantica and arrive as a dead man because humans can't live underwater, silly.

 

If you feel so embarrassed of yourself for any reason at all, you are suddenly hit with the realization of life... You can’t control things that happened to you. Most of the the time anyways. Lance doesn’t believe in destiny, or any fatalistic beliefs. Because, hello? We know Lance loved chaos and noise. Maybe that’s why he fucked up often and feel sorry for himself.

 

because Lance has a love and hate relationship with himself. He's abusive and he yells at himself in the mirror for being such an insecure snot-nosed kid. Because the taller boys liked to push Lance so hard. Because they like to remind Lance of how truly worthless he was. Lance was a nobody...and he wanted to be somebody. He wanted to be a star that shone brighter than any star, than any sun. 

 

**_“Then your tail will divide and shrink until it becomes what the people on earth call a pair of shapely legs. But it will hurt; it will feel as if a sharp sword slashed through you. Everyone who sees you will say that you are the most graceful human being they have ever laid eyes on, for you will keep your gliding movement and no dancer will be able to tread as lightly as you. But every step you take will feel as if you were treading upon knife blades so sharp that blood must flow. I am willing to help you, but are you willing to suffer all this?"_ **

  
**_"Yes," the little mermaid said in a trembling voice, as she thought of the Prince and of gaining a human soul._** ”   


and Lance said **yes** too.

 

Elementary school felt like hell if Lance could recall. Being the chubby forgettable kid. Being the kid yelled at for moving his leg up and down. Smack Smack Smack with a ruler, because Alejandro, you can't move your leg like that. You can't have your hair that long. Your teeth are too crooked. There's something wrong here. Maybe it's not just Lance, but the world. 

 

So he's going to try to cheat the system because he's not Annoying Al or anything like that. Just like that, cheat the system like Ariel did. He's going to grow a pair and stand up for himself. He just needed a devil to seal the deal with. Finding Nemo taught him to just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming. Keep your head above the water because haven't you heard? The demons can swim! 

 

He’s told this to someone once. It wasn’t Keith because he told him later when he locked himself in his bathroom while Keith sinked down, leaning his weight on it and knocking weakly.

 

No, it wasn’t Keith.

 

It was a guy named Greg Something.

 

He knew Lance was a terrible person back then, so shut up.

 

Lance used to get bullied, so it makes sense in a fucked way.

 

_“I never thought you’d feel that way,” he said, holding his nimble fingers, tracing his veins._

 

_“Well. I do. It sucks,” young Lance said. High pitched and a voice cracking like his resolve._

 

_“You’re so…unreachable. Like a too bright star, yanno?” Greg said. “It’s weird to see you feeling like you’re worthless.”_

 

_“I’ve…I’m a good actor. Have you seen me play Romeo last summer? I was awesome.”_

 

_“Yeah, you kissed Becky Harrington. Everyone saw it. You got in trouble, right?”_

 

_“Yeah, her brother was huge. Whatever, she tasted like play dough.”_

 

_Greg laughed, braces,teeth and all. “I often wish I was you…a lot of people do.”_

 

_“You shouldn’t.”_

 

_“Why?”_

 

  _but Lance wanted to say_ _"because that’s me. My middle name is Lancito, I stopped going by Alejandro because kids made up a mean nickname, Annoying Al. I hated the way I looked. I had zits; I was chubby. I felt terrible about myself. I didn’t have friends. Nobody would talk to me. I was the only kid at school who had to dissect their own frog because nobody would be my lab partner. And then I joined ballet, lost a little bit of weight, found out I was athletic and joined gymnastics and swimming, went on Proactiv for my acne; and, when my dad got promoted he got a raise, and I asked him if could get nicer clothes, and he said yes, and I asked him to call me Lance. I love myself, and that's why I did all those things. I’ve been that guy, and I’m never going back. I was a miserable little boy."_

 

**_mermaids have no tears, and therefore they suffer more.  
_ **

 

 _but thinks better of it and said,_ _“Because…I’m nobody.”_

 

_Then Lance leans in, kissing Greg Something’s lips. He kisses him back._

 

_Maricon, he thinks._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_“Hey, Robbie. Why do you keep your hair long?” some yellow-teethed kid asks._

 

_“…I like it long.”_

 

_“But you look like a girl.”_

 

_“I think he looks great,” a girl says, glaring at the boy harshly. “You look good, Robbie.”_

 

_Then Lance would sneer, sending a mocking half-smirk. “I think you look gay as fuck.”_

 

_“Lance!” Greg said, punching his arm._

 

_“What? It’s true.” Lance said, raising an eyebrow. “Who else makes their hair that long? That’s so gay.”_

 

_“You’re such an ass, Lance,” the girl said, shaking her head. Lance doesn’t remember her name because she was irrelevant back then. Another blank face._

 

_“At least it’s a good one,” he winked at her, seeing the satisfying blush coming to her cheeks, “And a matching face to boot.”_

 

_._

_._

_._

 

_“Dude, I think Greg’s gay,” someone whispered into his ear, looking at the boy in question. “He doesn’t talk about girls, or even thinks about them.”_

 

_“I don’t think that automatically makes him gay,” Lance said wryly, shooting the basketball into the hoop. Hell yeah, Sharp shooter strikes again!_

 

_“…I saw him checking you out in the locker rooms.”_

 

_Lance froze. “Really?”_

 

_“Yeah, he was staring at you for like five minutes while you changed.”_

 

_“…That’s so gross.” Lance pretended to shiver, but butterflies were swarming his tight stomach. “Ew.”_

 

_._

_._

_._

 

_“I heard you were checking me out earlier.”_

 

_“I wasn’t.”_

 

_“You so were,” Lance teased, poking his ribs._

 

_He glared at him, throwing a ball at him. “I wasn’t. Knock it off.”_

 

_“C’mon, dude. It’s cool. I’m flattered really,” Lance said flippantly, dribbling the ball in a slow pace._

 

_“…Why do you do that?”_

 

_“Do what?”_

 

_“You act all romantic and gushy to me, but I see you pushing Anna Carter into a trashcan.”_

 

_“Cause she’s weird.”_

 

_“No, I think it’s because she’s a lesbian.”_

 

_“Yeah, she’s a lesbo. What else is new?”_

 

_“That was wrong, dude. Not cool.”_

 

_“Greg, don’t be like that. She was weird already. Being lesbian doesn’t change that.”_

 

_“You’re right,” he sighed. “But that doesn’t mean she’s any less of a person. Gay or not. You should know that. I support you, and who you like. I mean, I know we’ll break up by the time we're finished with this school year.”_

 

_Lance was silent, stomach twisting in knots. He murmured something under his breath, quiet like the wind._

 

_“What was that?”_

 

_“I’m not gay,” Lance said, shaking his head. “I’m really not gay.”_

 

_“What…what the fuck, Lance? You literally tongued me like twenty minutes ago.”_

 

_“I’m not gay,” he said. “I like girls.”_

 

_“Really, now? Then what’s with all this bullshit the last couple of months?”_

 

_“Greg…I’m really not. I like girls…and I like boys too.”_

 

_Greg scoffed. “That’s not a real thing. You’re just trying to convince yourself.”_

 

_Okay, now Lance was getting mad. “I am not gay. I’m into people.”_

 

_“Yeah? I don’t see it. You’re as gay as a fucking window, shitty coward.”_

 

_Something inside Lance snapped. He grabbed the cart of basketballs, pushing it down, which created the loudest crashing sound ever. It echoed in the gym walls. He heard running footsteps._

 

_Lance glared at Greg. “Fuck you, asshole. Go to hell.”_

 

_He grabbed Greg shirt, pulling him into a harsh kiss, prying his mouth open. As soon as he heard the doors open, and the voices. He pushed him rough, spitting and sputtering, fumbling with his words. Greg landed onto the gym floor, rubbing his tail-bone._

 

_“What the fuck, Greg?  Wh-why did you do that!?” Lance shouted, covering his lips. “Get the hell away from me you…you…pervert.”_

 

_“Lance,” he stared at him with eyes filled with betrayal._

 

_Lance looked at him with pity. “I’m sorry if I sent you mixed signals, man. I just wanted to be nice to you…”_

 

_“The fuck…” he whispered, still shellshocked._

 

_“I didn’t mean to make you have a crush on me,” Lance said, “What you did was gross. Fuck off, homo.”_

 

_Give him an oscar._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_Word spread fast._

 

_Lance ignored Greg for the rest of the year. So did everyone else._

 

_Lance cried himself to sleep for about a month. He vomited his lunch. He skipped meals. He stopped talking altogether._

 

_He grabbed a permanent marker from his drawer, writing harsh words into his skin and cried._

 

**_Maricon._ **

 

_._

_._

_._

 

_High school was…weirder._

 

_At this time, he forgot all about Greg Something._

 

_So he dated this chick Nyma._

 

_Didn’t end well._

 

_She chained him to a tree, and stole his car._

 

_The next day, the whole school knew Lance liked boys._

 

 _That_ **_Bitch_ ** _, he thought._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_If people thought Lance was some cock-sucking loser… then fine, fuck them all._

 

_He wasn’t going to be the king of high school._

 

_No, no. He’s going to pull something better. He’s going to steal that fucking crown from Nyma and slay her with style._

 

 _Bitch, he’s going to be the fucking_ **_Queen_ **.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

_Prom was very eventful._

 

_It involved mud, Pidge’s smoke bombs, Hunk’s laxative filled cupcakes, a rigged ballot and a plastic crown. Some Mean Girls planning involved. Lance was a fucked up Lindsay Lohan and Nyma a slightly less hotter Rachel McAdams. Hunk being being a straight Damien, Pidge being the perfect Janis Ian. He doesn’t know the the last two actors, they were pretty irrelevant. Point is, high school was like that. The plastics (bitches, all of them) and the coolest people you ever met. (hello? Garrison Trio. Hasta La Later, motherfuckers)_

 

_Lance grabbed the microphone drunkenly, placing the plastic pink tiara on his head. He smirked at Nyma’s seething and burning form. Lance is way hotter than her, like that dress doesn’t even match her makeup. Go watch some Jeffree Star, and talk to him later. Aigggggghht? Try me bitch, I got better eyebrow game than you._

 

_“This is for my beautiful ex-girlfriend. I hope you’re recording this, beee-yooootch.”_

 

_His split the crown in tiny pieces and threw to the cheering crowd. He dipped the Prom King in style, and kissed him. Well, the dude didn’t complain. Hooray for closeted assholes! Lance really didn’t want to go home with a black eye._

 

_Slaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay._

 

_“Also, I’m bisexual. Get your facts straight..or not? Whatever, I’m hilarious. Can I get whoop-whoop for equal opportunities?”_

 

_The crowd cheered, and Lance kissed his middle finger. “Yo-you bitch, you stole my science homework too! Like…study or something. What the fuck? I knew you were sort of crazy and some kind deranged kleptomaniac, but c’mon. I have 4.0 to maintain. Why don’t you go suck on that while you try to sleep your way into a job.”_

 

_Hunk and Pidge next to him with wide smiles. “Burn.”_

 

_“I’m so drunk, bitches. Whats up!? Don’t be ashamed of yourselves. You have the right to liveeeeee. It’s a free country, dudes.”_

 

_“Okay. Time to get you home, buddy.”_

 

_“ALSO, ALSO THE BITCH IS NYMA—OKAY? YEAH, IT’S NYMA—FUUUUUUUUUCK YOOOOOOOOOUUU—“_

 

_Pidge snorted hauling his bony ass off the stage. “We got it.”_

 

_The whole ride home was Lance stripping off his suit as he sang Cee-Lo Green. The Chancla was soooooooo worth It._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

Lance found Greg Something’s Facebook profile.

 

Gregory Moseby.

 

What do you know. Also he’s engaged to some guy named Amir.

 

He messaged him with a long apology. Followed by a spam of stickers.

 

As he tucked in Ari, kissing his forehead.

 

“Night, cub.”

 

His phone pinged. He left the room and unlocked it to see a notification.

 

 **_Gregory Moseby sent you a message_ **

 

_Thank you, Lance. Your apology brought me to tears. I’m glad I finally got some closure after all these years. What you did was bad, yes, but we grew up. That’s inevitable. We don’t stay kids forever. You grew up, and I can see it. You’re not the skinny Latino who tries too hard anymore. You’ve become even more amazing. I’m jealous. Still a bright star, huh? I would want to catch up, but I’ve realised we’re living in opposite sides of the country. Bummer, right? Maybe some day. I’d like to see how much of a great person you’ve become. I want to say sorry as well. What I said was dumb and pretty ignorant. It doesn’t matter who you like. You’re you. Doesn’t change anything. :)_

 

_Also, fuck you, but yeah. I accept your apology, man. Cute kid, by the way._

 

Lance got an ending. It wasn’t the happily ever after kind. But it was close.

 

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

Lance has grown over the years. He’s fought of dragons in the form of his insecurities. He’s got a knight in shining armor, which was himself because Lance McClain is an independent Cuban man who don’t need no man because fuck boys, they’re all bullshit. BULLLLLLSHIIIIIT.

 

He was not stupid. Men are dummies, he thought, even people you think are closest to you. So he was going teach them a lesson.

 

Drunken Lance Style!

 

_“I’m going to beat your fucking ass! You piece of shit, you’re disgusting. Huh? Huh!? You’re crying now. Stop that. You don’t deserve to cry! Pendejo. You-you are worse than trash. I hope you remember that. You think you can do that, motherfucker? You think you can? She’s you’re fucking sister, have some damn respect.”_

 

_Margot was crying, her face blotchy. Holding his middle with her tight arms, stopping from mauling his own little brother. “Lance…”_

 

_“Margot, Let go of me! He-he’s your fucking twin and you think he can get away with what he’s done? No! No one talks to you like that, especially not your bloody brother.”_

 

_Coco stood several feet away behind Danny. He was terrified, face pale as a sheet._

 

_“Let me go! I want to smash his shitty face in with my bat. C’mon!”_

 

_“Alejandro, what in God’s name are you doing!?”_

 

_“You—you fucking tattle tale! Now you’re playing the victim, haaaaa? Mama, don’t. This boy is not your son. He’s trash. He’s…fuck, I’m going to puke.”_

 

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_Let’s come back to several of hours ago._

 

_Margot was part of the soccer team in her school. She had chopped all her hair off because it always got in the way whenever she played. She rocked the pixie cut. Lance bought her that blue headband, and she looked even prettier. His sisters are so pretty, but Lance is pretty too. He just couldn’t do shit like that._

 

_Lance was so proud of his sister. The soccer team in their shared high school was pretty hard to get in, which was ridiculous. Do you really expect fourteen year olds to be Messi and Ronaldo?_

 

_But his sister was fast, like a slim gazelle. She also knew how to kick like a motherfucker. Lance knew this from personal experience. Having called her a knock-off Abercrombie and Fitch mannequin wanna-be, his balls have never felt so much pain._

 

 _But yeah, his little sister was awesome! Lance is a good brother and he loved being the favourite brother because his parents will never think of him as the favourite son. So, it’s close enough. Before her first big game, Lance sewed her number on her jersey, sacrificing his sleep time because Margot deserved it. She was the_ **_best_ ** _. He even painted his face with blue and white streaks._

 

_But when she walked into the field, her shirt was with stained with grass and dirt. Lance was puzzled at first because um, the game hasn’t started yet. Margot got caked in dirt, and he knows his sister doesn’t just do that. His sister was a neat freak and she always came pristine._

 

_His whole body soon froze once she turned to face the crowd._

 

_There in big bold letters, smudged on her sweaty forehead was…was…_

 

**_HOMO_ **

 

_Which was not even possible to… yeah he has had his suspicions, but Margot never exactly flaunted it. She didn’t do anything particularly obvious about her sexuality. It’s not like she has to prove it. No one should know because Margot hasn’t even come out to their parents yet._

 

_But there, right next to bleachers were some high schoolers, snickering at her._

 

_Coco—no, Connor was there. Right next to those assholes, laughing._

 

_._

 

_._

 

.

 

_“You know, you’ve done some pretty good pranks on us. BUT THIS? This draws the line, you shit. Fucker, you think it’s funny? You think it’s funny to plaster that bullshit on your twin sister’s face? You…you’re a disgrace. Go, laugh. Laugh like the little shit you are. Right? Right, it’s funny. Go, I’ll laugh with you.”_

 

_Coco stood there quiet, snot running down his nose._

 

_Mama stared at him with shocked, speechless. Margot tightened her hold._

 

_“Oi, why aren’t you laughing? You think it was before? It’s still funny! C’mon, laugh. Laugh at her. Go stand in front of her and laugh because I promise I won’t strangle you or something. I’ll laugh with you. Coooomeeeee on, Coco. Come here to big brother, right next to me, cause we will all laugh at your sister.”_

 

_“Alejandro…” His mother whispered. “That’s enough.”_

 

_“Eh? Mama, don’t you get it? He’s trying to make a joke. You always thought you were funnier than me, right? Come here! You’re fucking hilarious. I really want to hear more of your jokes, so give me a damn punchline. Come on. Danny, look he’s trembling. You’re just dying to let out all that laughter!”_

 

_“Lance…it’s okay, please,” Margot said, tears seeping into the back of shirt. “You’re drunk…just go to sleep. Please.”_

 

_“I’m not going to sleep until that funny guy laughs.”_

 

_“Connor…” Mama looked at him warily with sad eyes._

 

 _“Laugh!” Lance wrestled out of Margot hold, and he ran towards his shaking brother. He bunched his shirt, forehead to forehead. Everyone stood still. “Puto,_ **_laugh_ ** _.”_

 

_Then Lance laughed. Everything pouring out in every chuckle._

 

_Life is the world’s best joke._

 

_“I’m so sorry,” he cried, “I’m so fucking sorry, Margot.”_

 

_“Why are you crying? I thought you were going to laugh.”_

 

_“Lance, come on. He’s a kid,” Danny said, trying to pry Lance and Connor apart. “Hey.”_

 

_Lance narrowed his eyes, and pushed Connor with one hand. He fell on the carpet, staring at Lance with glassy eyes. Lance crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow._

 

_“I guess you’re not that funny after all. Bummer,” Lance said, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to sleep.”_

 

_“I’m sorry,” he croaked out._

 

_“I don’t want your sorry ass near me for a week. Talk to your sister, tonto. She’s the one you need to be sorry and go fix what you have done. Also throw that sharpie away, it’s sticking out of your pocket. Dumbass.”_

 

_Lance walked upstairs, making sure to slam the door extra hard._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_Weeks past after that little incident. Margot eventually forgave Connor for it. Lance did not because that’s not how things work. He’s sorry, but has anything happened? Did anything change? Did those assholes stop tormenting Margot? Nope._

 

_That’s what he told him. Coco’s face crumpled, so Lance kicked him out of his room._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_Apparently, Coco got suspended for a week. He got the marching band to play a rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody followed by We Are The Champions.  It was heartfelt. It touched Margot so much that she cried during practice._

 

_And so, Lance and Coco started talking again._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

So…that happened.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

_Keith sat in front of him, shirtless and all. Typing away in his shitty laptop. Lance placed his feet on his lap, tickling his stomach._

 

_“Hey, stop that.”_

 

_“Hm? Stop what? I’m not doing anything.”_

 

_Keith shook his head. His pony tail loosening. “You’re annoying.”_

 

_Lance pouted, crawling to him like a cat. He hovered above his laptop screen. Keith raised an eyebrow. “Hi. I’m annoying.”_

 

_“Hi. I’m pissed. Go away.”_

 

_“No fun,” Lance said, pecking his lips._

 

_Lance took off his shirt. And then things escalated really quickly after that._

 

_They were in bed, in their boxers. Keith kissing his neck, covering him in colourful love bites. Lance hands traced his back muscles, feeling the tension in them_

 

_“Hey, Mullet.”_

 

_Keith grunted._

 

_“How long have you known you’ve been gay?”_

 

_Keith stopped for a second, then took a huge bite on Lance’s jugular._

 

_“Ow. What are you, a dog?”_

 

_“I’ve always known… I think. I’ve never been attracted to girls. I always thought they were too weird. Boobs and curves. Vaginas are terrifying.”_

 

_Lance laughed._

 

_“I’ve always liked boys. Even when I was like probably eight or something. I think I’ve started acknowledging it when I was in sixth grade. I was scared for a while. I was from a small town in Texas. Not a lot of people were tolerant. They gave you shit if they found about you being gay. It didn’t help that I was still in foster care. When I moved to bigger cities, I’ve started…acting up on it.”_

 

_“Oh my god, you started having sex!”_

 

_“Shut up. I was like fifteen.”_

 

_“You lost your virginity at fifteen?”_

 

_“Can we not talk about that?”_

 

_“No, dude. It’s cool. I lost mine when I was like fourteen or something. I just started fucking boys when I was eighteen. Gay strippers are the best!”_

 

_“You’re…you’re so weird.”_

 

_“But you like it don’t you?” Lance whispered, his hand going threateningly closer to his crotch. “You like that?”_

 

_“Jesus Christ.”_

 

_“I wanna play a game,” Lance said, he then grabbed a t-shirt. He shoved it down on his face, Keith let out a surprised yelp. Lance flipped them over, him straddling above him. “It’s the touch my body game.”_

 

_“You…WHAT.”_

 

_“It’s fun. I swear,” Lance whispered into his covered ear. “Very fun.”_

 

_Keith sighed through the cloth, his voice muffled when he replied. “I’m agreeing to this mainly because I just wanna touch you.”_

 

_“Aw, Keith, babe, snookums….That was so sweet.”_

 

_“Please, don’t call me that.”_

 

_“Here, what’s this?”_

 

_“Yeah. That’s your dick.”_

 

_“Smart boy,” Lance kissed him._

 

_“How about this?”_

 

_“…That’s your mouth.” Lance licked a long trail on his finger._

 

_“Liking this game so far, Keithy-boy? You don’t have to lie. I can legit feel you right now.”_

 

_“…You’re too much.”_

 

 _“Oh, shut up. Guess what this is,” Lance kisses his hand, stripping off the velcro of his glove. He sees numbers written there with a pen..._ **_from Jonah ;)_ **

 

_“If you let me touch your ass crack I will end you,” Keith said grimly._

 

_“…Keith.”_

 

_“What?” came muffled response._

 

_“Who the fuck is Jonah?”_

 

_“What.”_

 

_Lance shoved his hand down, and he climbed off him. Keith fumbled with the shirt stuck on his head. Lance was already pulling his pants on, shoving his shirt down his body. He grabbed his backpack._

 

_“Hey! Where are you going?” Keith grabbed his wrist._

 

_“I’m not your booty call, fucker.” Lance growled._

 

_“What are you talking about?”_

 

_“Keith, I’m trying hard to understand you because I like you, but pull that shit on me, I’ll punch the living daylights out of you. Let go.”_

 

_“You’re spouting nonsense right now.”_

 

_“Nonsense? Look at your hand, asshole. Does that look like nonsense?”_

 

_“That—Who the fuck is Jonah?”_

 

_Lance rolled his eyes. “Call me when you got your shit together, man.”_

 

_“Alejandro.”_

 

_“You know, only my mom calls me that. It’s Lance by the way.”_

 

_“…Lance.”_

 

_“…Please calling me that. Wow. I'm not that opposed to Alejandro, but like…wow.”_

 

_“…You have really weird mood swings,” Keith commented. “I’m concerned.”_

 

_That’s...new. No matter how many knives we put in each other’s back, we still have each other’s back. How nice._

 

_“Yeah? Cause I’m too much,” Lance said, grabbing the door. “I’m supposed to be mad at you, byeeeee.”_

 

_“I’ll call you.”_

 

_“Fuck Jonah first,” Lance deadpanned. “Then, you can fuck me.”_

 

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

They were in the bar from a few streets away. It was rickety old kind of pub, like an Irish ones. They were in a booth, sipping on their beers. Lance arrived later than usual. He had to drop off Ari to his Mike’s parents. So he was sort of free, or he could drink at least. Prince Tequila here he comes.

 

“Guys, this is Keith.” He gestured to the Billy Ray Cyrus wannabe next to him.

 

“Yeah, we know,” Pidge said, waving a hand at Keith.

 

Keith waved awkwardly back.

 

“Right. Ex-boyfriend and all,” Lance said, smiling stiffly.

 

“Yep.” Hunk said. “Hey, man. Long time no see.”

 

Shay downed a shot.

 

“We’re not going to be weird about this, okay? We were all friends before I started fuc—I mean dating Keith. So we’re just going to do adult stuff like drink unhealthy amounts of alcohol while I whine about my career and love life that is heading nowhere.”

 

“What… _love life?_ ” Keith looked at him. “I thought you were dating her,” pointing towards Shay. She downed another shot. Hunk gave her a worried glance.

 

“WHAT. Dude, no. She’s Hunk’s girlfriend.”

 

“I actually thought you were married…” Keith said, averting his eyes. “Now I feel stupid.”

 

“Do you see a ring on my finger?”

 

“Some people don’t wear their rings,” Keith defended.

 

Lance scoffed, “Those are cheating assholes. The hell Keith?”

 

“Nice. They’re bickering. This is going to go fine,” Pidge said smirking. They gave a sneaky wink at Keith. “Good ole’ days. Glory days.”

 

“Why do you have the need to do that?” Lance gave Pidge a **Look**.

 

“I’m sorry. I thought she was Ari’s mom,” Keith said, scratching the back of his head.

 

“Well, she’s not. I’m his dad, his parental figure, probation officer.”

 

“Right.”

 

“I’m going to get smashed and you guys are going to carry my drunk ass back into my apartment,” he downed his tequila, feel the burnnnnn. He grimaced. “I deserve it. Oh, right, Hunk, Ari is asking you about ukulele lessons.”

 

“Oh! I promised him.”

 

“What’s it for?”

 

“He says he has some sort of show and tell in school.”

 

“That’s my boy, be all prepared and shit.”

 

“You crammed your finals back in college.”

 

“Enough about me! Keith talk, so that they’ll stop attacking me.”

 

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

“Dude, that’s wicked!”

 

“It’s not that great.”

 

“You kidding me?” Pidge said, leaning to him. “You test-pilot the new hoverboard and you get to tamper with it!”

 

“It’s cool, I guess.”

 

Lance licked his salt. “Cool? Mullet, you don’t need to modest. Go be a Swedish Fish.”

 

“…What is wrong with you?” Pidge asked.

 

“Ah—shit. I mean, selfish bitch. Sorry, I’m tipsy.”

 

“We’re cutting you off,” Hunk said as he took the bottles away from him.

 

Lance pouted. “Nooooo… This is the only time I get to be irresponsible and drink my worries away.”

 

“Lance,” Keith placed a hand on his shoulder. Lance shrugged it away.

 

“I have to pee. I’ll be back.”

 

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_“You do know I’m not impressed right?”_

 

_Keith furrowed his eyebrows, “Why would I try to impress you?”_

 

_Lance leaned against the banister. “Smoking isn’t cool.”_

 

_Keith scoffed, and sucked in a puff. “I’m not trying to be cool…”_

 

_“Why else would you smoke?”_

 

_“I’m stressed? I don’t know. It relaxes me.”_

 

_Lance rolled his eyes, “Give me.”_

 

_“What?”_

 

_“Give me one of those damn cancer sticks.”_

 

_“No way.”_

 

_“I’m not going to die with one stick, give it.”_

 

_“This is your choice. Whatever,” Keith said, seemingly hesitant._

 

_He handed him a cigarette, lighting it up. Lance inhaled it. Wrongly. Fuck. This kind of burn hurt. He couldn’t breathe._

 

_So he coughed violently. Keith just stared at him with worried eyes._

 

_“Yeah, okay. I just have to get used to it, right?”_

 

_“Please don’t.”_

 

_Lance clicked his tongue, “You’re not the boss of me.” He inhaled, and lets it out. It still hurts, but not as much. It feels kind of good now, actually._

 

_“You’re such a kid.”_

 

_“I’m stressed,” he mimicked, a teasing smile in place._

 

_“You’re like the most relaxed person I know,” Keith said wryly. He throws the cigarette to the roof. There’s like a million of them there, still in their exact places. No one knows who cleans that up, but in any case it’s a problem. The small burning flakes dance in the air like fireflies._

 

_That was not true. Lance doesn’t say that and took a long dragging huff. The smoke coming out in a large cloud. Lance could still feel the throbbing sting on his collar. Keith did that. Some guy hit on Lance, so he dragged him into some random dirty stall, and bit every inch of visible skin. So possessive. He smiled secretly. Get frustrated with me, iron-mask._

 

_So maybe Lance was a masochist. He wanted to run for the hills sometimes because Keith is like a feral cat, ready to pounce if someone’s gets too close to his territory._

 

_Lance took ecstasy a while ago, but he thinks it’s wearing off. “I’m so relaxed, but everything you do stresses me, Keith.”_

 

_Keith let out a loud scoff._

 

_“I want to go home,” Keith leaned to him, pausing at his lips. They’re only a few inches apart. He can smell the smoke from him. If they kiss now, it’ll probably be like licking an ashtray._

 

_“Si me besas terminamos hechando un palo,” Lance said, flicking the tip of Keith’s nose. “Denied.”_

 

_“I don’t know what you just said, but I’m too tired to argue,” Keith says, and he does look exhausted. He grabbed his hand, not rough. It didn’t leave bruises, but it did leave tingles on his skin. Wow, I’m such a girl, Lance thought as he grimaced._

 

_“Lead the way, tonto.”_

 

_._

 

Lance stood outside the bar, leaning against a lamp post. The dim yellow light above him, casting shadows on the planes of his face. He looked thinner, more hollow than before. The night is chilly, so Lance digged through his jacket’s pocket. He found his lighter, and flicked it to life.

 

He grabbed the tattered cigarette box from his back pocket. He fumbled with it, trying to get the stick. He placed between his chattering teeth. He lit it, tasting the menthol in his mouth. The smoke went up the sky, floating away like the distant memories.

 

He glanced at the bar’s window. Pidge was cackling, swinging their bottle around. Hunk had his arm around Shay’s shoulders. Keith was grinning like a madman, face flushed. Matt and Allura were there, looking very amused. Lance chuckled. He’s going to hit on Allura tonight because he liked to spite Matt.

 

_._

 

Lance woke up on the sofa the next morning, regretting everything. His mouth smelled like ass. His clothes were clinging to his body like scotch tape. Disgusting.

 

“Hey.”  Lance jumped from the sudden sound. “You’re up,” Keith gave him a glass of water and aspirin. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah, just peachy.” Lance said, rubbing his forehead. His head is killing him. “What time is it?”

 

“It’s like three in the morning.”

 

“What? The witching hour…why are you still up?” Lance said. “Do you sleep?”

 

“Nope. I don’t sleep much,” Keith said, sitting on the chair next to him. “I just need three or four hours to function.”

 

“Dios mio,” Lance whispered, placing a hand on his eyes. His finger part, peeking out to look at Keith. He looked pretty with the pale light of the lamp. “What are you on? Meth, or demons?”

 

“Demons,” Keith said, running a hand down his unruly hair. It was a bit shorter than he last remembered. “They keep me up at night.”

 

“Same.”

 

“…Lance.”

 

“Yes, Mullet.”

 

“Are you okay? like fine…stable?” Why do people keep asking him that? It’s getting so repetitive these days.

 

“Are you asking me if I’m crazy?” Lance deadpanned. “Are you going to ask me if I have little voices in my head?”

 

“No, I’m asking if you’re okay,” Keith said seriously.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Are you sure…?”

 

“Yeah, I am.”

 

“…Please be honest.”

 

“What’s with all these questions. Also I find that very hypocritical.”

 

Keith flinched. “Lance…I went in your bathroom to see if you had any aspirin.”

 

“And…?”

 

“I saw a shit ton of medication in there. Lance, they look like they haven’t even been touched.”

 

Lance laughed darkly. “Yeah? Well, I don’t need them.”

 

“Lance, you have a fucking kid.”

 

“Look, I can’t take care of Ari if I’m sick,” Lance confesses. “Those meds…they make me so sick and dizzy. I can’t take care of him.”

 

“Lance…Jesus. You’re really going to give up your…stability for that?” There was an unspoken word that he dared not say, but Lance understood what he truly meant: sanity.

 

“Ari is my stability, so don’t fucking go there. Look in the mirror, edge lord.”

 

“I’m trying. That’s the difference. I’m trying to be fine. I know I’ll never a achieve full-fledged happiness, but I’m getting there. Slowly.”

 

“…Don’t tell Hunk and Pidge.”

 

“Lance.”

 

“Promise me, Mullet.”

 

“Fine, but you need to take them and I’ll…I’ll take care of that kid while you do, okay? Let me help you. It’s my turn now. You’ve been putting up with my bullshit for years, so I think I should give you that much.”

 

Lance sighed through his nose. “Fine. I’ll take them.”

 

Keith smiled like he’s hung the moon for him.

 

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

 

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

“Never had she danced so beautifully; the sharp knives cut her feet, but she did not feel it, for the pain in her heart was far greater.”   
― [Hans Christian Andersen](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6378.Hans_Christian_Andersen), [The Little Mermaid](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/245197)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some tragedies…are a lot different than what most people interpret it as.
> 
> Leave a comment and tell me what you think :D
> 
> some of these things happened to me! so idk this is probs like a diary to me. hehe
> 
> QUOTES ARE FROM THE LITTLE MERMAID BY Hans Christian Andersen


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life gets messy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank my wonderful and beautiful editor and BETA pal: galaxy-gayrrison
> 
> I think I have too much angst so I update like super fast. It's ridiculous xD
> 
> So! There's a lot KLANCE angst in this one. I hope it hurts your chest because it really hurt mine ^^"
> 
> Also, 1000 hits!?!? Holyyyyy Shiiiiiit. Dudes, you guys are amazing. Thank you for reading this dumb story I made from my weird impulsive moments! LOL xD

Remember when Lance said he’s done some really embarrassing shit in his life? Yeah. He did. A lot. There are tons of instances because Lance lives like the ocean. Go with the flow. And be salty sometimes.

_“I remember when we broke up the first time Saying, this is it, I've had enough, " Lance sang on the bar stool, swaying. That motherfuckin’ song played in a bar. Which doesn’t make sense, who plays a Taylor Swift break up song in a some smelly bar? It’s like he entered some sort of Twilight Zone._

_“'Cause like, we hadn't seen each other in a month when you said you needed space. WHAT?”_

_Pidge hid their face in mortification, muttering words that they didn’t know this lunatic._

_“Then you come around again and say ‘Baby, I miss you and I swear I'm gonna change, trust me.’ Remember how that lasted for a day? I say, ‘I hate you,’ we break up, you call me, I love you. OH WAIT HE DIDN’T!”_

 

_Hunk squirmed in his seat, sipping his beer._

 

_“Ooh, we called it off again last night, But ooh, this time I'm telling you, I'm telling you.”_

_Lance hopped on the table, screaming his lungs out. “We are never, ever, ever getting back together,”_

 

_“Jesus Christ, Lance,” Pidge mumbled, debating whether or not to record their friend’s embarrassing actions._

 

_“KeeeeEEIITHH! Are never, ever, ever getting back together.” He danced in his place, kicking glasses._

_People stared at him, laughing at him, their phones facing him._

_“I'm really gonna miss you picking fights and me falling for it, screaming that I'm right! And you would hide away and find your peace of mind with some indie record that's much cooler than mine!”_

 

_“Lance, get down, oh my god.”_

_“Pidge shut up, this is my song, my calling.”_

_“End me.”_

_“Let him… vent,” Hunk said, patting their shoulder._

 

_“Keeee-EEIITHH! Are never, ever, ever getting back together.”_

 

_“Do you think we should call 911?” Hunk asked._

_”Let him die.” Pidge growled._

 

_”YOU GO TALK TO YOUR FRIENDS TALK TO MY FRIENDS TALK TO ME, BUT KEEEEEEEIIIITTTTTH, ARE NEVER, EVER, EVER GETTING BACK TOGETHER!”_

 

_“Hey, do you have Mama McClain’s number? I think we need that goddamn sandal here to make him shut up.”_

 

_“I used to think that we were forever, ever,” Lance sang softly, cradling the vodka bottle like a treasure. “And I used to say, Never say never…"_

 

_”My phone’s dead,” Hunk moaned, dropping his head on the counter, jostling shot glasses._

 

_“God, he was such a dick, sometimes! Oh my god, like he…. shiiiiiit. He was exhausting and I was like, dude I’m like so exhaaaaaaaausted,” Lance said morosely, facing the crowd forming around him. Lance smirked, yeah he was an attention seeker. “But fuck him, right? We are never getting back together, like ever.”_

 

_“Godspeed, brother,” someone yelled from the back._

_Lance turned red, and yelled at the bartender. “Bring me alcohol! Don’t you want to actually sell stuff!?”_

_Pidge shook their head at the amused bartender. “Lance, stop it. I don’t even know why we brought you here.”_

_“Yeah, we were supposed to have karaoke,” Hunk said._

 

_“You guys suck—Oh my god, I Knew You Were Trouble is playing.”_

 

_“WHAT THE FUCK IS WITH THE TAYLOR SWIFT SONGS?” Pidge yelled at the manager._

.

.

 

.

 

He never thought that day would ever come back to bite him in the ass. In the form of a viral video, oh my _gooooooooood_.

“So…” Keith started, staring at the video on the phone. “I’m at a loss.”

“Yeah, you can laugh,” Lance muttered, sipping his coffee. “Just…forget it, okay? I was wasted.”

“I’m starting to think that we should start an intervention,” Keith said wryly, placing the phone back on the coffee table. “Do you have a drinking problem?”

“You are the worst therapist ever.”

“I’m new at this friendship thing,” Keith said, crossing his arms.

“Oh yeah, cause all we did was fuuuu—“ he saw Ari passing by. “Fudging. Yeah that.”

Keith gave a small smile, letting out a chuckle. “You being a dad is unbelievable. I mean I knew you were going to be great dad, get a girl and a nice house with a white picket fence. Probably dog, too.”

Lance deadpanned at him. “Really? I imagined my future to be with you actually. Guess not, huh?”

 

_“What are you doing, McClain?” His conscience asked._

_“Being spectacular,” he shot back._

_“Tone down the angsting, boi.”_

_“Shut up, conscience.”_

 

“Lance…” Keith brought Lance’s attention back to him.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I shouldn’t have assumed that you would think that we’d be in the long run.”

.

.

.

_“Wait, you’re engaged?”_

_Delilah grinned, her face blossoming into a blush. She lifted her hand, showing off the silver ring on her finger. “Yeah…it’s so surreal.”_

_Lance felt a twinge of annoyance. Just a bit. Like a mosquito bite. “Wow…you’re going to get married, and have kids…and have a great life.”_

_“You don’t sound so excited.”_

_“Sorry,” Lance sighed, stirring his coffee. It’s black like the devil’s soul. Too bitter. But Keith drank black, and it shows how much he’s changed. Lance used to drink huge amounts of sugar in his coffee because he could never stand the taste. Now…he can’t handle a single packet in his damn drink. “…it’s just Keith. My skinny love.”_

_“Shit,” Delilah cursed, mouth curving downwards. “I…I’m sorry Lance, I shouldn’t have said anything yet.”_

_“No, it’s fine.”_

_“Little brother,” Delilah started, placing her hand on his, “I just wanted you to be the first to know.”_

_“…Why?”_

_Delilah exhaled through her nose. “It’s just…you’ve gone through so much among the all of us. You know everything. It’s like you’re the eldest, to be honest. Should I keep calling you little brother?”_

_“…Delilah, I’m…” Lance said, twiddling his thumbs. “I am fucked up. You shouldn’t look up to me.”_

_“Have you been taking your meds?”_

_“Yeah,” Lance breathed. He took a sip of his coffee. “I have. It fucking sucks.”_

_“Then it means it’s working,” Delilah gave him a sad smile. “I’m no expert, but…I think that might be a good thing.”_

_“I feel like shit all the time,” he confesses. “Dr. Holt told me it takes time to adjust. Probably a month.”_

_“You’re going to be okay, little brother.”_

_“I hope so…” Lance whispered. “Damn. I miss him, you know?”_

_“I know,” she said, squeezing his hand. “You always do…I think you guys deserve each other.”_

_“What? Lala, that’s kind of messed up.”_

_“No, no…I mean, you guys are so in love. It’s intense.”_

_You’re too_ **_intense,_ ** _Keith._

_“…it is. I do love him. Sometimes, I just want to gouge his eyes out with a spoon though.”_

_Delilah laughed. “Yeah, that happens in relationships.”_

_“I was thinking that I was turning into a psychopath, but I guess the urge to murder your partner is normal,” Lance said, huffing._

_“Lance, you just…you and Keith. I can see it. He loves you—“_

_“No, he doesn’t.”_

_“—and I think that you guys just met each other at the wrong time. I’ve met Keith like twice, and that boy has baggage heavier than an airport.”_

_“Hilarious.”_

_“Just…wait for him. It might come,” Delilah said, propping her chin on a hand, “and if you wait too long, then you can leave, but he might come, just a little too late. It’s your choice if you’re going to let him in.”_

_“I’ll think about it, but anyways,” Lance said, and then groaned, “I’m a piss poor college student, I’m just going to get you monopoly money as a wedding gift.”_

_“Hmm, I don’t know. You can do something for me though, you wouldn’t need to give me anything.”_

_Lance narrowed his eyes at her. “What is it, ugly?”_

_“Be my maid of honour.”_

.

.

.

 

“Keith, can I ask you something?” Lance questioned, reclining into his chair.

“Anything. Shoot.”

“Have you…ever had a crush on a straight guy?”

Keith was quiet, studying his expression, and then looked away. “I don’t play games that I would lose.”

Lance gasped. “Wow. You’re fucking annoying.”

“Bad word!” Ari said from somewhere. Lance grimaced. Another penny in the swear jar. At this rate, he can actually pay for Ari’s college tuition.

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” Keith asked

Lance smiled, shaking his head. “No, it’s a compliment actually. I’m serious.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

“It is.”

Keith bit his lip and ducked. “I mean…I had a crush on you. I thought you were straight.”

Lance blushed, feeling the blood going into his head in alarming rate. “That’s…weird. I’m far from straight.”

“Half gay?”

“Okay, now that’s just stupid.”

Keith scrunched his nose, looking he swallowed a particularly sour lemon. “Yeah, you’re right. That was dumb.”

“Someone said to  me that I was as gay as a window,” Lance chuckled. “I didn’t really think much about it, but now I get it. It’s kind of hilarious.”

Keith let out a small laugh. “Yeah? I know I’m a hundred percent gay.”

“Gay?” Ari suddenly popped in.

“Ari,” Lance said, patting the spot next to him. Ari crawled on it, hopping into the seat. “Keith is gay.”

“Like tia Margot?”

“Yep.”

Ari stared at Keith, the blank calculating face put on. Keith squirmed. Lance wanted to roll on the floor and cackle. Iron mask Keith, who pierced his own ears, who lit his tongue on fire to prove a point, who drove a motorcycle, is scared of a first grader.

“Why do you like boys?”

“Because I just do.”

“You like to kiss them?”

“…You could say that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Yeah, I like to kiss boys,” Keith said, and coughed. “I like it.”

“You like to fudge them?”

Lance spat out his coffee, thumping his chest.

“Papa, are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” Lance croaked, he glance at Keith. He looked like a tomato ready to burst. “Ari…um…uh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Okaaaaay,” he drawled, tilting his head to the side like a puppy. “So you like to holds hands and stuff?”

“I don’t really like…doing that.”

“But you like to hold Papa’s?”

“Ummm…”

“You don’t have to answer that,” Lance said quickly.

“Yes, you do,” Ari frowned at him. “You like to hold his hand? Hug him? Kiss him?”

“Ari, okay that’s enough questions.”

“Yeah…I do,” Keith mumbled, staring at the ground.

Lance whipped his head at him, gawking.

“Okay! I’m going to uncle Hunk, I need to practice.”

“…Okay, come home before dinner,” Lance stated.

He went away, kicking in every step. It was like Ari was too excited to walk normally. Yeah, definitely his kid.

“Keith…”

“I know.”

“I…can’t. Just not right now. Okay? I need time.”

“Yeah…it’s cool,” he said. “I can wait.” he half-smiled. Lance’s heart throbbed. “Lance, can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“What happened to Ari’s mom?”

Lance paused, fidgeting. “She…died. A long time ago.”

“Oh.”

“Ari never met her,” Lance said. “She was…amazing. Don’t be sorry, man.”

“I’m not,” Keith said. “I know what it feels like to not have a mom. It’s more…I empathise him. I never met her, and I didn’t think too much on that. I knew she was dead before I got into foster system.”

Lance stayed silent.

“I had my dad. He was a good guy. He taught me a few things. Takashi was closer to him than I ever was. I…I think that’s one of things I deeply regret. I wished I knew him better, spent more time with him, go horseback riding or something. He was a really…good dad. When he passed away, I hated myself. I felt like the world was out to get me, just taking away the things I thought I didn’t need. I did need him. I was a dumb kid…I was used to being by myself, but I had never felt more alone.”

“Dude, I don’t really know what to say.”

Keith sent him a pained smile. “When I see you with Ari, I’m reminded by him. I thought that Ari was sort of similar, but he is way smarter than I am. He cherishes you. I never had the chance to do it.”

Lance suddenly stood up, holding his hand out.

“What?”

Lance took in a shaky breath. “Take my hand, I have to show you something.”

Keith took his hand, gripped it firmly, and stood. Lance dragged him into the dimly lit hallway. The window in the end lighting up the room in golden glow. He stopped in front of the dresser where Delilah and Mike’s photos were. The light reflecting on their smiling faces. There was a photo album next to it. He opened it, flipping through pages. Delilah and Mike on a date. Them kissing under the mistletoe. Delilah teaching Mike how to surf horribly. Delilah laughing, Mike pressing a chaste kiss on her cheek. Mike playing his guitar to Delilah. Their wedding. Ari’s ultrasound photos. Delilah with her pregnant belly, glaring at the camera, flipping the bird. Ari’s baby shower. Mike staring at the camera with a dazed expression, glasses askew.Delilah and Mike teasing Lance on his graduation.

“Lance…what is this?”

Lance stared at the photos with blurry eyes, rubbing his nose with his sleeve.

“Ari’s parents.”

“…That’s Delilah,” Keith turned to Lance with wide eyes. “Ari’s mom…is your sister?”

“Yeah,” Lance said distantly, his word echoing. “She’s fucking dead.”

 

.

.

.

Lance was driving, Ari next to him oddly quiet. Usually he’s start talking about some Voltron episode. The radio played a soft tune, no voice, something like an acoustic instrumental. Ari played with the ends of his shirt.

“Papa?”

“Yeah.”

“What was Mama and Dad like?”

Lance paused. “They were…good people. Better than Papa.”

“No one is better than you.”

“Ari…there’s a million people who are better than me,” Lance laughed deprecatingly. “Millions.”

“Yeah, but you’re the only Papa I know,” Ari said, watching the flurry of rain pattering on the window. “I think that’s good enough…better.”

“Ari, sometimes I wonder if you’re actually seven years old.”

“Don’t worry, Papa,” Ari sighed, playing with the his backpack’s straps. “I’m not nearly as smart as I think I am.”

“You’re spending too much time with Pidge,” Lance commented, flicking Ari’s ear.

“Nah, I’m just awesome.”

“You are definitely a McClain,” Lance said wryly. Giant egos are apparently hereditary.

“Yeah, he is.”

Lance whipped his head, and Delilah was sitting next to him.

“De—Delilah,” Lance stuttered, eyes wide, burning. “You…you’re here.”

“Where else would I be, forehead?” Delilah laughed, shaking her head. “You can’t get rid of me that easily!” she teased.

Lance let out a watery laugh, his eyes crinkling. “Jesus…Delilah, is that really you?”

“You’re so weird,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Did you hit your head on something again? At this rate you’re going to lose more brain cells.”

“Fuck…you’re actually here. You’re here! You’re not dead.”

“Why would I be dead?”

“You…you got hit by a truck.”

“Really? That must have hurt a ton.”

“Yeah…you lost a lot of blood.”

“I’m okay, Lance.”

“Where’s Mike?” he croaked.

She merely smiled, the McClain signature grin taking over her face. “He’s waiting for me.”

“For what?”

Delilah pointed at the driver’s window.

Lance turned his head, and saw bright lights.

A truck.

She was pale, her cheeks were hollow. Her blue eyes that were identical to his were dim, staring at him. There was an array of cuts and bruises around her face, and one that takes over her collar bone like a necklace.

The only thing Lance can say is that Delilah looked dead.

And then as soon as he blinked, she wasn’t not there, Ari taking her place.

Ari looking at him with her eyes, with Mike’s sad expression.

_“Papa?”_

“ARI!” Lance jolted from his bed, screaming. Blankets tangled around his feet. His body shivering in cold sweat. His chest heaving heavily. His heart hammering against his ribcage, threatening to burst out of his chest. He swallowed large amounts of hair. He glanced at the small yellow bottle next to him. He covered his face with his hands, sobbing.

_They’re not working._

He heard the door creak, a tuft of black popped out, wide blinking blue eyes staring at him curiously.

“…Papa?”

“A-Ari…come here…please.” Lance said, his hands twitching. His whole body trembling. “Mijo, come here…I need you right now.”

Ari hurriedly scurried to him, climbing into his bed. He snuggled close to him, wrapping his arms around his waist. Lance pressed his face against his hair, inhaling his familiar scent, kissing his forehead. He caressed his small back, feeling the soft skin.

_He’s alive._

_He’s okay._

_He’s breathing…he’s_ **_breathing_ ** _._

He pulled away, taking Ari’s face in his hands, memorise his features. He counted the freckles on his face. Seventy-two. Ari has exactly seventy-two freckles. Lance kissed his cheek, and dropped his head on his shoulder.

“Did you dream about Mama again?”

“Yeah…I did.”

“Was it a good dream?”

“I’m not sure, Mijo.”

“…I wish I could dream of her.”

“I’m sorry, Ari.”

“It’s okay, Papa.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m so so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

This continued on until they slept. He held Ari close.

Hey, at least he had someone cradling him in their arms.

 

.

.

.

_Danny was pacing in the living room, gnawing his lips. The skin peeling off, blood drawn._

_It was past midnight. Mama didn’t like them leaving their rooms after ten at night. It was dumb rule, Lance always thought that. No one actually followed it, and he’s been caught by Mama a couple of times, and she just told him to get whatever he needed and go back to sleep._

_Lance wanted to drink some warm milk because he can’t sleep. He’s still thinking about Greg. It sucks ten times more because the teacher moved his seat right next to him. Lance only gives quick glances because Greg stared at him with so much hatred._

_He crept down the stairs, and sat on the steps, gripping the banister. He didn’t want to disturb Danny because he looks so distressed. It’s a rare sight to see because his brother is the most put up together guy he knows, like he knows how to handle his shit. Lance can’t even survive seventh grade, Lance thought morosely._

_His brother was superman, which was so annoying sometimes. He’s the son he could never be. He knew his family looked down on him quietly. He knew Danny is better than him, and maybe Danny thought so too. It’ wasn’t  like he said it to his face, but Lance knew because sometimes Danny gave him sad smiles and helped him with his homework._

_Lance was on and off with dangling by a thread with C's. Danny had perfect grades. He might be the third best in his high school._

_He was good looking, with that hard jaw thing going on like Heath Ledger. And he was stupidly well fit and had a perfect stature. Lance… was miniature and puny._

_(He hadn’t gotten his growth spurt yet, he was still shorter than Danny at this time. Later, when Lance was a sophomore, he was several inches taller than him. He liked to rub it in his face all the time.)_

_He was amazing at football. Not the one where big hulking guys pulverise you while carrying lemon-shaped balls. No, real football. Soccer or whatever. Lance couldn’t even kick for shit because he had awkward skinny legs. Margot had stronger legs than him, which is pathetic. The only thing Lance had going on is swimming because he spent so much time in the ocean when he was younger. Sometimes, it’s not even enough. He misses the ocean so much._

_Danny was just so fucking_ **_perfect_ ** _._

_“Cam, fuck, just talk to me please?” he whispers harshly. Lance can see footprints embedded on the carpet. He’s been there for a while. “Babe, shit, I’m scared too. D-Don’t cry…you’re going to make me cry too. Fuck.”_

_“No…I’m not. I’m…terrified.”_

_Lance leaned closer._

_“Cami…I’m twenty. I can’t be a dad yet.”_

**_Holy Shit._ **

_Lance covered his gasp with his hand. He stopped breathing because he thought it was going to be the loudest sound in this goddamn house._

_“I…I love you. I love you so much. I’ll figure out something,” he mumbled. “I…need to tell my parents, you know? You should tell your folks too…Cami, they won’t hate you. I swear. Your parents are the nicest people I know. My parents…I don’t know. Maybe? They had me when they were like twenty or something. They’d understand, hopefully.”_

_There’s a long pause. Camila was probably talking. Or sobbing._

_“Yeah…Okay, good night. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Get some sleep,” he said, smiling sadly. It’s like the one he sends Lance when he’s being particularly stupid. But this time, it’s aiming to himself._

_Lance lost the urge to get milk now, he wanted to come back in his room and hide under his blanket. He couldn’t sleep now….because…_

_Shit. Danny was going to be a_ **_Dad_ ** _._

_A father._

_Yeah, I’m not going to deal with this, nope nonononono-nope, Lance thought frantically._

_He went up the stairs slowly, and he takes one step._

**Creeeeeeaaaaaaak!**

_Fuck me, Lance grimaced._

_A long silence stretched. Lance held his breath._

_“…You can come out now,” Danny said tiredly, knocking on the wall._

_Lance sighed, revealing himself from the darkness._

_“Hey,” Lance waved awkwardly, shuffling his bare feet._

_“Hey,” Danny replied,  chuckling quietly. “Did you hear any of that?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“How much?”_

_Lance winced, averting his eyes. “All of it.”_

_Danny sighed, collapsing onto the sofa. He leans his head on the the headrest, staring blankly at the ceiling. “I’m kind of relieved you heard that.”_

_What? “What?”_

_Danny sent him a small smile. “I’m relieved. I’m relieved that it was you who heard it.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Lance…you’re my brother. Connor or Darwin wouldn’t understand the gravity of the situation, they’re too young to get it. Nessie, Delilah, and Margot…they wouldn’t get it. They’re girls,” He said wryly._

_“Um, should that last part be offensive?_

_“No. I’m saying I need a guy’s opinion on this. Man to man, you know?”_

_“I don’t think I’m qualified for that position. I’m still a boy. Dad should be here with you.”_

_Danny snorted, “What happened to that ego of yours? I thought you were a ladies man. Papi chulo.”_

_Lance rolled his eyes, huffing. “I’m gay.”_

_Danny’s eyes bulged out, gaping at him, mouth opening and closing . “Fuck…Lance…seriously?”_

_Lance stared at him with exhausted eyes, “Call me a maricon or something. You can lessen the blow if you call me macaroni. Just poke fun at it.”_

_“Lance, chiquito…That’s nothing to make fun of,” Danny frowned. “This…is pretty serious.”_

_Lance collapsed next to him, facing up to the ceiling. The cracks on them are like substitutes to stars. Maybe he isn’t a bright star. He’s just some crack on a wall. “I don’t know, Danny. I still like girls though. It’s weird. My feelings are fucked up.”_

_“Oi.”_

_Lance made a face. “Are you serious? Fine. My feelings are_ **_messed up._ ** _You’re already acting like a dad.”_

_Danny flinched._

_Lance licked his lips, and inhaled sharply. “Right. Sorry.”_

_“Nah, I think I should start acting like one.”_

_Lance rolled his head to face him, studying his profile. “You’re twenty, broski. You…don’t need to be a dad yet. But I think you have to start growing up faster.”_

_“Yeah. I have to.”_

_“You do things for the people you love,” Lance said quietly. “Do things for the people you love in the future.”_

_“…I’m still scared.”_

_Lance poked his shoulder. “Think about that small bump on Camila’s body. You need to be strong for that kid. News flash, brother, all parents are scared shi—“_

_“Ahem.”_

_Lance glared. “Oh my god. I’m trying to be a good brother. Don’t interrupt me, tonto. All parents scared as…heck.”_

_Danny snorted._

_“Danny, I’ll tell you something.”_

_“What is it, chico?”_

_“You’re…kind of a dad already. To me at least. Dad is so busy with work, and I barely see him sometimes. You’d think we’d get used to it by now…but man, I’m so scared. Every time he pins that badge on his chest and that awful gun on his hip…catching bad men and shooting them. Everyday, even when we were still so little, I’m never sure if he was ever going to make it home, you know?”_

_“Yeah…that terrifies me too. Dad…not being around. Killed in action.”_

_“Yeah, but when…that happens. You’re going to be the man of the house now, you do know that right? Mama needs you, we need you when that happens. I’m pretty sure you’re good enough for this father thing,” Lance said, playing with the frayed ends of shirt. “I mean you got that strong fatherly jaw already, it just screams ‘_ **_provider_ ** _’.”_

_“Lance,” Danny looked at him in awe. Lance and Danny kind of look similar to a certain degree. They both have the freckled tanned skin and dark hair. Lance is just slightly lighter than him. Delilah and Lance are the only ones who got Dad’s eyes, the blue ones. But all of them got Mama’s cheeky smile. “Are you really thirteen?”_

_“I’m turning fourteen next month, so…” Lance shrugged, and then frowned. “I don’t know why you guys keep asking me for advice. I’m like…really fucked up.”_

_“Lance.”_

_“OH MY GOD,” Lance grabbed the pillow and screamed. “Danny, I deserve to swear. I’m almost in high school. I just gave you advice! And you're like barely a legal age to drink.”_

_“Oi, coño. It’s not good to swear. God is always watching you,” he smirked, pointing to the ceiling._

_“The ceiling is watching me,” Lance deadpanned. “By the way, in exchange for this heart to heart, or man to man thing…you’re going to_ **_insist_ ** _abuelita that you lead the rosary, okay?”_

_“Fine, tonto,” Danny rolled his eyes, smirk still in place. “I think I’m okay. I can breathe.”_

_“Good,” Lance said, and yawned. Damn, it’s like three in the morning. He actually feels sleepy. Thank you for small miracles. “You’re going to be fine, Danny. Just fiiiiiiine.”_

_“You’re going to be a good dad, Lance. In the future, I mean. When you’re settled down.”_

_Lance let out a short laugh. “Me? A dad? No way. I can’t imagine having kids. Seriously.”_

_“Never say never, brother.”_

_Lance leaned on his brother’s shoulder, closing his eyes. He evened his breathing, and started to slip into the darkness._

“ _Lance_.”

_“Mhmmmmmmm.”_

_“Thank you.”_

_Yeah, he’s_ **_definitely_ ** _the favourite brother._

.

.

.

 

Lance walked in on Ari and Hunk. He leaned against the doorway of his flat. Pidge was probably hacking the CIA in their room.

“Okay, just take the right hand on the right strings and at the right time…not that one, yeah there! Just within the chord to bring out the melody. See that’s where it comes from, buddy.”

“Comes from what?” Ari asked.

“From the harmony, from the chords. There’s really no wrong notes, you’re just playing within the chords.”

“So here?”

“Yeah, that’s the E string… so now go to the second string.”

Ari does so.

“Good! You’re really smart buddy,” Hunk complemented, patting his head.

“I know I am,” Ari frowned. “You don’t have to tell me that.”

Hunk blinked. “Okay…moving on.”

Lance snickered. That’s definitely his kid.

.

 

.

.

_“I can not believe you. Seriously,” Lance groaned, dabbing the wet cloth on Keith’s bruised and bloody cheek. Keith stared at him with his one eye. The other was closed shut and purple. “You’re…Jesus Christ.”_

_“I’m Keith, actually.” He grunted, and hissed when Lance pressed the cloth harder. “The amount of times you say Jesus Christ, I think you’re scaring off the demons in your apartment.”_

_“Don’t be a smart ass,” Lance muttered. He poured more antiseptic into the cloth. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”_

_“They’re real.”_

_“You watch too many documentaries, tonto.”_

_“But they are…”_

_“Keith, you’re delirious. You had a ninety nine versus one fight.”_

_“Don’t be dramatic. It was like five guys.”_

_“Then I have ninety nine problems and a bitch is one. That’s you by the way.”_

_“Really? I couldn’t tell.”_

_Lance chuckled. He pressed a soft kiss on his split lips. He doesn’t have his piercing._

_“Ow.”_

_“Punishment,” Lance said sticking his tongue out. Keith leaned into him, pressing his mouth, feel the heat between them. Lance curled his fingers around his neck._

_Lance pushed him away lightly, staring at his battered face. “You’re still messed up though.”_

_“C’mon, dude.”_

_“Yeah, we’re not…doing it tonight.”_

_“Doing what?”_

_“You know what!”_

_Keith smirked, and winced when he felt the cut re-open. “Hm, Alejandro McClain being a prude. That’s new.”_

_“I may be a slut, but I have my dignity. Now fuck off, you damned rabbit. I need to do my paper for my class.”_

_Keith pouted, he flopped down on the bed. Lance undid his belt, and left the zipper open. He returned to his desk, continued his work. Ten minutes later, he was done. He stretched his back and then he heard Keith mumble something quietly. Lance strained his ears, and walked to him. He straddles his waist and combed his unruly locks._

_“Are you singing?”_

_“No.”_

_“I definitely heard you sing.”_

_“I didn’t.”_

_“Dude, you were singing ‘Hotel California’. I know, don’t lie.”_

_“It’s a good song.”_

_“Welcome to the Hotel California…” Lance sang quietly. “Such a lovely place…”_

_He cupped Keith’s cheek. He leaned on it, nudging it like a cat. Lance liked moments like these, soft and sincere. Keith looking content even though he just got the shit beaten out of him._

_“Such a lovely face…” Lance continued, playing with the hair near his ear. “You’re cute.”_

_“That’s not something you say to a grown man.”_

_“Oh! You’re a man, now? Alright. What do you want, handsome?”_

_Keith opened his eyes, half lidded, chin up. “You.”_

_Lance leaned out, stopping until they were an inch apart._

 

_“Nope.”_

_Keith made a face, and shoved him. Lance laughed, poking his sides._

_“You’re an ass.”_

_“It’s a good one though.”_

_“Um, not really. It’s pretty flat.”_

_“What? Fuck you, man.”_

_“Please do.”_

_“Sleep, shitty bastard.”_

_“Lay next to me.”_

_“Okay,” Lance sighed, and flopped next to him, and blew a puff of air to his nose. “That I can do.”_

_“Yay.”_

_“No more fights, okay?”_

_“…”_

_“Keith.”_

_“…I can’t promise that, Al.”_

_“Alright…just be safe, Keithy-boy.”_

_Keith kissed him, and then slept, snoring softly._

_They’re going to be fine, Lance thought, rubbing his nose against Keith’s. They’re going to be fine. Now and in the future. Maybe forever. Possibly...or not._

_Lance didn’t like to think about those kinds of things. A future with Keith. It's like a faraway dream. But Lance wasn’t stupid._

_This skinny love, it had an expiration date. Lance didn’t know if he was prepared for that. For him, Keith was his only one. Sometimes, Lance wished when they actually do break up, when he actually has the balls to leave him, Keith will be haunted by their memories. It’s only fair. Keith had broken Lance so many times, he has become a ghost of himself. In hindsight, Lance shouldn’t have even pursued this dumb relationship. He’d already seen the end the moment it all began. This_ **_thing_ ** _they had looked so innocent and so pure, but then it turned so wrong. This...bullshit became so evil. With Keith, it’s hard to know what he was thinking. Maybe he thought the same for Lance as well. Lance knew he hid himself through layers of thick skin, through smiles, and through his fake confidence._

_He thought of his abuelita and her bible she keeps on her all the time._

 

 

 

> _“Love is always patient and kind. It is never jealous. Love is never boastful or conceited. It is never rude or selfish. It does not take offense and is not resentful. Love takes no pleasure in other people’s sins, but delights in the truth. It is always ready to excuse, to trust, to hope, and to endure whatever comes.”_

_Abuelita, I think you're a liar, Lance thought._

_Lance studied Keith’s face. He tucked in a lock of hair behind ear. He saw the small freckles on Keith’s left eyelid._

_“I love you, tonto, but you make it really hard to do that,” Lance whispered, and then pursed his lips. After sometime, Keith moved, facing him away. A space between them. "Sometimes, I think every time you change your position, you're changing me too. You're changing us."_

_._

_._

_._

_I love you, but it hurts sometimes. It hurt. Fuck, when you touched me ...touching me was like being burned alive, being reborn from the ashes and being burned alive again. This vicious cycle is doomed to be repeated, impossible to escape. Keith, you were a raging fire, you were inferno. You had flames so hot and so strong that it’s so fucking hard to put you out._

_Sometimes, I thought you were dragging me to hell with your frustration, your problems, and...yourself. I felt so tired and confused when I’m with you. Being with you is so pointless, but for some dumb reason...I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t leave you._

_I didn’t pity you, Keith. I couldn’t leave you because I was so stupidly, blindly, crazily in love with you. I never knew loving you was so painful, but it’s so fucking addicting. My heart was constantly being throttled around by your rough hands, by those god awful fingerless gloved hands._

_I told you so many times…to be more patient, to be kinder, to not be a fucking jealous idiot all the time. It was so useless. It felt like I was talking to a wall. You and your mullet pissed me off so much._

_I don’t know how anyone else can possibly love you unconditionally like I did. Does that mean we were meant to be?_

_You were an animal. You bared your teeth and growled when someone got too close to you. I was the dumb idiot who did that, and now you bit me. I hated you. I hated that I loved you._

_You made me want to jump off a bridge sometimes. You had that much control on me._

_I felt like every time you left, I lost a bit of my sanity. I thought I needed a doctor for this. This love we had, it’s not healthy. Heartbreak was the worst kind of poison, it’s took over my entire system through my veins. My heart raced when you looked at me, but it stoped when you looked away. What could I do for you to make you look at me? Who was I to you, Mullet?_

_I didn’t even know who the hell was I anymore._

_I am not Alejandro. My name is **Lance**._

_I wished for a lot of things, but life has been cruel to me. My insecurities had suffocated me. Your violent words and empty threats shoved down my throat. I felt like I was swallowing gravel._

_I think why I chose Ari over you is because he’s a good distraction from all the pain you’ve caused me. I know. I am a terrible person. I kept telling this lie where my life is really simple. It was not. I was ...not good. I never was._

_**I     Am    Fucked   Up** _

_I wished Delilah wasn’t dead. I wished I was smarter. I wished things could have been good. I wished we could have met at the right time. I wished Ari had a better father. I wished I was good enough to please people._

_I wished you’d love me back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment or a Kudos! It helps me a lot with my motivation!!!! :D
> 
> And what did you think about that angsty long af monologue in the end? :3c


	7. Just a Random Update! Really long!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Posted: November 30, 2017.

hello readers, its’s ya boooooooiiiii!!!

So sorry for the false alarm/ notification

Recently i’ve noticed that i update like super fast and apparently that’s not really good? A friend of mine told me so hahaha

But srsly the reason why i wanted to do notify you guys is that i’m working on the next chapter which involves a shit ton of editing and writing. And perhaps i might write future chapters and i’ll post two chaps next time :) and i need to catch up on some school stuff.

And to make up for this change pace i shall give you something you might all like:

Keith POV

(Or Ari POV... hahah just a thought tho!)

How does that sound?

So grab your popcorn guys and maybe some tissues bcos we are going to listen our favorite emo mullet boy !!! (￣▽￣)

Let me know if this might cool idea :) through the comments.

Also nearly 1300 hits!! U guys are so awesome I crieeeee. I never really thought this dumb and angsty and weird story i made up bcos i was jist frustrated with the world would get this many views!?!?! (Honestly, i didnt think a lot people would cry with this story...)

it’s all a vent fic... i have so many problems it sucks! So these flashbacks Lance makes are Real Shit that happened to me.... perhaps thats why you guys cry??? It’s all raw emotion. My life is tragic i guess... but i’m trying out this thing called optimism and ~~Therapy~~

~~this is completely unrelated but since im anonymous it doesnt really matter. So i guess you could say im not Well and i really want to help u guys go through and conquer wtf life is throwing shit at u~~

 

Also i just really want Lance to have a sister named Delilah xD 

some emotional shit:

YOU GUYS ARE SO…UGH. AMAZING AND WONDERFUL.  I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!?!? :D You guys are so…worth it. The tears…the smiles…sleepless nights. fuck dudes. :'D

this might become really mushy and shit… your comments actually do make me cry (probs bcos im a crybaby for compliments…) It's not everyday someone says "i love you" or "you are so gooooood"…. shit. the fact you guys comment make realize that wow. People like listening to this shitty story. People like to listen TO ME? TO MY PROBLEMS IN THE EMBODIMENT OF LANCE's ANGST. You make this Real. So real. I really can't imagine all of you right now behind your screens crying over this….it's so surreal and such a far awaydream of mine. i'm not anything special…just a normal socially inept depressed kid who doesn't have have much friends and spends so much time in their computer in some shitty ass town filled with assholes… :/ or just a really misunderstood angsting teenager. ahaha.

you make life…so beautiful?? so worth it?? ugh, this might make me cry. my eyes are burning. Being a blank face to you guys, and that you can see right through  my eyes with this story is pretty poetic haha. god dammmmn. 

i am really just a normal (or not) person. shit. 

so no matter how many times i say it can never be enough. Thank you, truly, deeply. Maybe when this shit storm of feelings will end…I might just give a really long emotional speech hahaha probably. :D 

.

.

.

 

See you soon...later? Whatever! :D hope u understand.

If u wanna talk to me here’s my tumblr: Dindorkenstein

i post some fanart of this fic there and if u want to pm or submit me you can go there… :)

 


	8. The Bonding Moment (Prologue to the Ari and Keith Arc)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life gets…Extra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Thank you guys for understanding about the recent update I posted :)
> 
> So this chapter is like a bonus chapter. :D like a really Extra chapter (ahem pun) Not exactly relevant…could be a ONE SHOT or a STAND ALONE one really :D Don't worry about me! I literally made this in like 2 hours? HAHA.
> 
> so'll post the extra story which is just a duplicate of this ;D
> 
> This is basically just one of KLANCE's disastrous dates. 
> 
> I had so much fun writing this. You have no idea xD
> 
> Till next time, leave a comment :) it helps me out a lot!
> 
> I would like to thank my wonderful and beautiful editor and BETA pal: galaxy-gayrrison
> 
> SONG USED: METRIC - BLACK SHEEP

“Mullet, where are you taking me?” Lance asked as Keith held his hand, dragging him to some dirty street filled with sketchy punks. Yeah, it was totally Keith’s type of crowd. The only thing Keith asked Lance was to wear the darkest clothes he had and something vaguely dangerous looking. He’s also wearing eyeshadow in the shade of My Parents are Disappointed in Me. This worried Lance because this was Keith who has done very illegal and life-threatening things…sometimes not on purpose.  
  
Why was he dating an adrenaline junkie?  
  
At this point, Lance reconsidered his life choices. Keith was going to give him a heart attack in his fucking twenties. It’s like he enjoys shaving years off Lance’s lifespan.  
  
So a lot of scenarios was swimming in Lance’s head. These are the things he has so far concluded as the most likely to happen:

  *  Keith was actually a psychopath who had lured Lance with his pretty boy looks to kill him and chop him into tiny Lance-kabobs
  * Keith was in some sort of cult and was planning to use Lance as some sort of human sacrifice.If he wasn't going to end up throwing Lance into the depths of fiery hell, then he was probably going to do some weird-ass initiation and force him to  converted into some extremist religion. 
  *  Keith was half-alien, shoving Lance into a spaceship to adopt purple, cat-like alien babies and never return to earth. Which was not really that bad, but Lance was going to miss his family terribly.



What if Keith was going to get them into jail? Lance didn’t think his family loved him enough to bail him out for joining his insane, sexy boyfriend with his schemes. They should have known him by now. Lance was so weak when it comes to broody, mullet-haired boys.  
    
What if Keith is going to steal Lance’s money and leave him like the asshole is!? Lance had to cancel his Spotify subscription to fucking afford his meal plans.  
  
In any case, Lance was totally screwed. And not in the good way, mind you.  
  
(okay…maybe Keith had convinced him in his own devious evil ways that made Lance so weak in the knees. Oh my god.)  
  
Keith was grinning like an evil mastermind. It was good look on him, totally fit him. Lance also liked Keith’s sleeping face. It brought out some very weird vibes when he told Keith this. He looked like such a sweet angel…from hell. Keith literally kicked Lance’s gut once while he dreaming because he was in some kind of Ninja-based land. With that, Keith impulsively bought an actual katana from Ebay. Thus the birth of the pet name ‘Samurai’.  
  
.  
.  
.  
  
“I like watching you sleep,” Lance said, with a love sick smile.  
  
Keith leaned away, with shifting eyes. “What the actual fuck, Lance?  
  
“C’mon Bella Swan, you look like a really cute raccoon on crack when you do,” Lance said, returning to his laptop, typing his two thousands word essay. Fuck you, Iverson. “Or maybe a panda…that’s totally cuter. A panda on crystal meth…”  
  
Keith stared at him confusedly, sitting with crossed legs like some child. “Who the hell is Bella Swan?”  
  
And then, Lance subjected him to the Twilight trilogy.  
  
He stared at him haunted eyes. The bags under them even more prominent. It was like Keith was just transported to some shadow realm and returned twelve years later.  
  
(because of that bullshit, Keith bit Lance’s neck with a extra pressure because sometimes he can be so petty.)  
  
.  
.  
.  
  
Lance went inside some butchering meat shop that smelled like pig guts and chicken shit. In all honesty, it smelled like regret.  
  
Lance knew Keith was from Texas, but c’mon. Sometimes Lance can hear a bit of an accent from him…more evident when says shit like ‘y’all’ y’aint’ or worse…’howdy’. He was such a cliche, he didn’t even think it was funny anymore. Keith liked messing with him because he said ice cream was just frozen cow juice.  
  
“Are you telling me you have some kind of fetish for dead animal bodies because…” Lance trailed away as Keith opened some kind of freezer door.  
  
“Fuck my life. My sexy, psychopathic boyfriend is going to kill me with his katana. Well, it was a shitty life so far,” Lance thought morosely, ready to accept his grim fate. He was waiting for the cloth to gag him, the knife on his throat, or a potato sack over his head.  
  
“What are you doing?” Keith asked with furrowed eyebrows. Ngh, Lance is so going to pluck the shit out of those caterpillars. “Why are you closing your eyes?”  
  
Lance gave him a dumbfounded look. “You’re not gonna murder me and stuff my body into some fleshy mannequin?”  
  
“What,” Keith deadpanned, as if to think ‘I’m dating a moron.’ “I’m not going to kill you, Alejan—Lance.”  
  
Lance gave him a quick thumbs up.  
  
“You literally sleep with a knife under your pillow,” Lance pointed out, he lifted his shirt revealing a protruding scar near his hip bone. “This isn’t helping you.”  
  
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Keith winced, remembering that messy memory. His sheets were dyed red. Keith panicked for two whole minutes until Lance said to shut the fuck up and take him into the emergency room, knife still penetrated in his middle. “I wrap the knife in a scarf now though, so we don’t need to worry about that when we make out.”  
  
“You are the worst,” Lance said flatly. “Where are we, Mullet?”  
  
“Oh, this is ‘The Blade of Marmora,” Keith said with an excited smile. “Or the Blade.”  
  
“That last part sounded really dirty.”  
  
“Why must you do this?”  
  
“Is this illegal because why is it underneath a rancid meat shop?”  
  
Keith smirked, grabbing Lance wrist, pulling him down the hidden stairs. “Maybe.”  
  
“You are going to drive me to an early grave,” Lance whined, allowing himself to be dragged away.  
  
.  
.  
.  
  
  
“An underground club...smells like teen spirit,” Lance stated as he stared at the flashing lights and scantily dressed people around him. “You know, I shouldn’t even be surprised. You are so horribly cliché.”  
  
Keith raised an eyebrow. Lance’s hand twitched for his tweezers. “I thought you liked cliché.”  
  
“Like romantic gestures, y’know,” Lance explained, staring at some guy’s hot pink mohawk. “Roses, serenading, strolls around the park, and I don’t know…sex on the beach?”  
  
Keith gave him a blank look. “You don’t like roses, I don’t sing and we already do strolls in the park. Sex on the beach doesn’t seem sanitary—“  
  
“Don’t you dare meme me—“  
  
“I don’t like the sand. It’s coarse, rough and irritating—unlike you. You’re soft and smooth,” Keith said with a straight face because apparently he was emotionally paralysed.  
  
“How the hell do you know that when you didn’t even know that Twilight existed?” Lance asked exasperatedly.  
  
“It’s a better love story.”  
  
“Oh my fucking God.”  
  
  
.  
.  
.  
  
  
“This is a romantic gesture, right?” Keith asked, moving in between crowds.  
  
“Probably,” Lance said wryly. “Romantic gestures are supposed to be obvious display of your eternal love for me, but you have subtlety of a hand grenade, so kudos to you.”  
  
“Yes, I am learning how to be a good boyfriend,” Keith said with so much fake cheer. “Progress. A for effort.”  
  
“You are…I guess. And I appreciate it,” Lance said, squeezing his hand tenderly. “You don’t like my romantic gestures, though.”  
  
Keith stared at him, and bit his piercing. He kissed Lance softly. “Don’t think that, please. I’m grateful, , I really am…they’re just seizure tier cringeworthy.”  
  
“Okay, that was half super sweet and very offensive. How do you do that?”  
  
“I just like being honest.”

  
“Oh, please,” Lance scoffed.

The band comes in. Silhouettes and shadows from different sizes.

“The band looks shady as fuck,” Lance commented with a raised eyebrow.  
  
“Hey! It was my wet dream to meet these guys,” Keith exclaimed.  
  
Oh, that escalated really fast. “Since it was a wet dream, there was an orgy right?”  
  
Keith made a disgusted face. “Don’t be gross, let's just rave.”  
  
Lance grinned, and made a rock sign. “Ready for the mosh pit, Shaka brah!  
  
Keith looked offended, lowering Lance's hand down. “Don’t do that.”  
  
A guitar started playing. The lights dimmed.  
**  
** **“And then it was time for Altea…to drown…in the sweet sorrow of…THE GENERALS.”** **  
**  
Lance turned his head away from Keith, watching the band on stage. They wore tatted purple clothing and had rugged looks with instruments strapped on their bodies. They looked like…talent homeless people, but like really pretty homeless people with studs and…things. Okay, let’s just say they all look like different versions of a female Keith. One of them had a cat perched on their shoulder.  
  
People cheered from everywhere, screaming their names.  
  
**_“Oh yeah!”_**  
  
Lights flashed. Lance caught a glimpse of a tall silhouette.  
  
Keith yelled over the noise, jumping up and down enthusiastically. “That guy on stage?”  
  
“Wait— that’s not a girl?” Lance yelled back. He gave a low whistle. “Damn, mami.”  
  
Keith glared at him, and punched his shoulder. Ow.  
  
**_“Oh yeah!”_**  
  
The lights flashed. Silver hair shone from the light beams.  
  
“That’s—“  
  
The light flashed. The man removed his coat. A wicked joker smirk in place, slitted eyes glinting with malice. Lance eyes widened. His chest constricted like a viper wrapping around his body.  
  
**_“Oh yeah!”_**  
  
_oh Fuck **  
**_

_**“Oh yeah!”** _

  
_Oh FUCK_

_**“Oh yeah!”** _

  
_OH FUUUUUUUUUUUUUU--_  
  
_**“Oh yeah!”**_  
  
“ **—Lotor** .”  
  
Lance swallowed the lump in his throat. His body tensed. He avoided Keith’s eyes, shifting side to side. He muttered something quietly, enough for Keith’s ears.  
  
“I know.”  
  
_**“Oh yeah!”** _  
  
Keith looked at him incredulously, analysing Lance’s uncomfortable face. “You know?”  
  
_**“Oh yeah!”**_  
  
Lance grimaced. His awkward smile wobbling.  
  
Keith’s stony faced turned into one of shock, and then anger. So much anger.  
  
.  
.  
.  
  
“So I had this boyfriend. I actually liked him at first.”  
  
“Yeah,” Keith looked at him with interested eyes, abandoning his physics book. Whatever, Keith is smart. He slept in class, and yet still manage to pass with flying colours.  
  
“He was pretty shitty. Hot, but shitty. I felt like I was being paid to be his boyfriend.”  
  
“What happened?”  
  
“He cheated on me on some hooker,” Lance grimaced, flipping through his comic book. “Her name was like Calista…or Acxa? I don’t fucking know.”  
  
“Damn.”  
  
“Yeah! I don’t tolerate being treated like that,” Lance said, crushing the pages, “so I stole his wallet and his money without his consent.”  
  
“ **What** !” which sounded impressively like Lil Jon.  
  
“He was like some sort of wannabe Gerard Way," Lance rolled his eyes. “He was filthy rich. I didn’t do much with it except buying two bags of Chipotle.”  
  
“I don’t believe you,” Keith said with narrowed eyes. “You can’t just take a rock star’s money without spending more than a little."  
  
Lance was quiet, pursing his lips. They continued their staring contest until Lance sighed and relented. “I took his credit card details and booked by myself a session in a spa and bought some really expensive bath bombs from Lush.”  
  
“And…?”  
  
Lance pouted at him, and mumbled, “…Patron Tequila…”

 

  
.  
.  
.

  
  
  
**“IS THAT YOUR MOTHER FUCKING EX!?”**  
  
Lance chuckled nervously.  
  
_**“OH YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAH!”** _  
  
Lance smiled wider, feeling his lips split. glancing at Lotor’s piercing gaze. The Legolas look-alike blew him an air kiss. Lance squirmed. “Surprise, baby.”  
  
Keith spun his head to the stage, meeting the leering blue eyes of the singing man. His snapped from Lance and Lotor repeatedly. His jaw clenched.  
  
**“Hello again, friend of a friend, I knew you when!”** Lotor whipped his long luscious hair.  
  
**“Our common goal was waiting for the world to end,”** he whipped his hair, his lips pouted. It was coated a sinful red. Lance remembers the lipstick staining his mouth.  
  
**“Now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend!”** Lance remembered his sneers, teases, the smell of his dollars,the texture of his itchy fur coat.  
  
**“You crack the whip, shape-shift and trick the past again.”** He remembered that goddamn, stupid British accent.  
  
Lance grinded his teeth together. 

Lotor gave him a quick wink.  
  
Keith gave him a dark look that could send anyone to a different dimension.  
  
The drummer pounded a rapid beat.  
  
Lotor rolled his eyes, and spun his heel, dragging the mic with him. He wore six inched combat boots with studs around the edges, but still moved like a graceful swan. His nails were painted black, like Keith's, except it was sharp like talons.

 **“Send you my love on a wire** **  
** **Lift you up, every time, everyone, ooh, pulls away, ooh** **  
** **From you…”**  
  
Lance really wanted to leave now, but they were compressed with the cheering crowd. They were bouncing up and down, raising their smelly armpits. Lance felt Keith’s tightening hold on their sweaty hands. He felt his nails embedding half moons on his.  
  
Lotor started clapping his hands above his head, urging the crowd to do the same. Lance and Keith were the only ones who stood frozen in their spot.  
  
**“Got balls of steel, got an automobile, for a minimum wage** **  
** **Got real estate, I'm buying it all up in outer space** **  
** **Now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend** **  
** **You crack the whip, shape-shift and trick, the past again…”**  
  
Lance buried his face into his hands, wanting the ground to swallow him whole. Yeah, he definitely needed some balls of steel to survive this.  
  
.  
.  
.  
  
  
“I used to think that you just asked me out of random, or maybe you had a death wish…but you actually do have a type.”  
  
“I’m weak against men with high cheekbones,” Lance huffed, crossing his arms. “Mullet, you have this Ramona Flowers vibe. That is a huge factor for my attraction towards you…did you always have red hair?”  
  
Keith sighed and shook his head.

He lifted a hand and said, “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Seventy-four?”

Keith clenched his teeth. “Actually, I’m flipping the bird at you. You’re drunk.”

“I am not!” Lance said as he pouted, then cocked his head to the side. “Keith, are you doing some Harry Potter Metamorphmagus shit because you’re hair just turned pink.  
  
“Okay, we are leaving right now,” Keith said, dragging Lance away from the bar. “I should give you some kind of name when you’re drunk...What about Charles?”  
  
**BITCH** , Lance needed like a bottle of vodka in his system because his current broody boyfriend who might just be raging psycho just saw his totally hot Legolas-lookalike rockstar ex-boyfriend giving him looks.  
  
He felt like he was tripping on acid…or he just entered to the Twilight Zone.  
  
“For fuck’s sake, let me just get this, Christ,” Lance slurred, downing the shot. He felt so hot wearing his inky-black clothes. His sweat stuck uncomfortably on his skin.  
  
“Alejan—I MEAN LANCE!” Keith growled. “I MEAN CHARLES!?”  
  
“FUCK, KEITH! JUST WAIT— OH MY GOD. STOP BEING SO JEALOUS. I AM OVER HIM,” Lance screamed, swaying a little. He downed another shot. “So much for a romantic gesture, huh!? Fuckin’ prick.”  
  
“This is why I didn't want you drink…you turn into some crazy maniac,” Keith groaned, pulling Lance from his seat.  
  
“LET GO OFF ME!” Lance yelled, pushing Keith. “Keith!”  
  
Lance suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. He glanced on it and saw sharp claws.  
  
“…Lotor.”  
  
“Long time no see, Blue.”  
  
Shit just got **real** .  
  
“Hey. Now piss off,” Lance said, his head getting woozy. “Your hair is longerrrrr.”  
  
“Oh my, you really going to greet a dear old friend like that?” Lotor smirked, behind him were his posse of threatening women. Lance recognized them, but he sort of forgot their names.

 

The big she-hulk with pigtails was **Emperor Zurg**

The one that looked like she had a stick up her ass was **Calista/Acxa**

The one that looks like a dumb cheerleader was **Scissors**

The one who had a cat that wore a hoodie enough to cover her upper half face and kind of looked liked that purple bat Pokemon was **Warty/Farty/Naruto**

Lance wasn’t good at keeping track of names.

 

But he didn’t care because he was going to shit a snowstorm. A freaking blizzard.  
  
“You are an asshole who has daddy issues, go away,” Lance slurred, collapsing into his chair, and he sniffed the air. “And you smell like diet coke.”  
  
“So aggressive…You know I liked it better when you were very submissive.”  
  
“Blast to past, you still kept that My Little Pony charm?” pointing towards the charm on his bracelet.  
  
“It's sentimental,” Lotor said breezily. White strands of hair plastered on his forehead. “You did give it to me after all.”  
  
“Yeah, cause you kept buying me expensive shit,” Lance said wryly. “You were like my unofficial sugar daddy.”  
  
“So…who's this?” Lotor laid his eyes on his very hot and totally-can-kill-you-with-a-pencil boyfriend.  
  
Keith’s eye twitched. “His boyfriend.”  
  
Lance’s stupid heart fluttered.  
  
“Yeah! We have sex …like all the time!” Lance blurted out, a sleazy smile on place.  
  
Keith blushed. “Uh…yeah. That too.”  
  
“Oh really?”  
  
“Yeah, so go away, you demented Rapunzel,” Lance said, slapping his face weakly. “That was supposed to be a bitch slap, but you’re really not worth it.”  
  
Keith pinched the bridge off his nose.  “Lance…”  
  
Lance stalked towards Lotor with his teeth bared. “YEAH! He's really hot too, right!? My boyfriend has belly button piercing, you shit!”  
  
“Quit objectifying me!” Keith shrieked, growing redder. “AND NO ONE IS SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT. OH MY GOD.”  
  
“Shut up, Mullet,” Lance whipped his head with a harsh glare. “I’m trying to be savage! I’ll suck you off you later.”  
  
Keith blinked slowly. Trying to process his statement. His eyes widened and gawked, his entire body going hot.  
  
“REALLY THEN, WHAT’S HIS SIZE?” Lotor yelled loudly.  
  
“EIGHT INCHES, BITCH.” Lance yelled louder.  
  
“LANCE!” Keith yelled loudest.  
  
“Keith, shut up! I really wish that was a lie, but it’s not! TAKE A COMPLIMENT, YOU EMO ASS POP-TART.”  
  
“Did you just call me a Pop-tart!?”  
  
Lotor sneered, “I knew that you were a slut.”  
  
“DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE THAT I SLEEP AROUND?” Lance said, poking his chest with a toothpick. Lotor flinched. “AT LEAST I DON’T LOOK LIKE AN EMOTIONAL LESBIAN.”  
  
“…What is that even?” Lotor asked confusedly, but shook it off, and flipped his hair…emotionally.  
  
“AND JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE VEGAN DOESN’T MEAN YOU’RE BETTER THAN ALL OF US.” Lance stood up from his chair, and growled. “And those hands! You’re nasty. Get yourself a manicure.”  
  
Somehow a crowd formed around them, zeroing into this debacle. Someone yelled from the back, “ROAST! WE HAVE ROAST WITH LOTOR AND SOME GUY WITH A FLAT ASS.”  
  
“I DO NOT HAVE A FLAT ASS!” Lance yelled back. Oh hell no, he does not! It’s nice okay!? It’s not as good as Keith’s because that boy is **thicc.**  
  
“It’s not that flat, douchebag!” Keith said back. Lance kissed his cheek in thanks.  
  
“You…wanker!” Lotor bit back, looking very accomplished. “Bloody wanker!  
  
“Oooh! He’s BRITISH!” Someone said, “THAT MAKES IT HARSHER. _OOOH BURN_!”  
  
“Would you quit it with the fake British accent?” Lance said with a raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “You do realise you’re from New Hampshire?”  
  
Lotor kicked a random lamp that no one noticed was there. It broke into a million pieces. Sparks coming out of it. He glared at it with great contempt.  
  
Keith stared at him, and then at the broken lamp. “Why did you break the lamp?”  
  
Lotor glared at him as if he said something absurd. “ **Nobody** shines brighter than **me** .”  
  
Keith wanted slam his face on the wall. “Am I the only sober one here?”  
  
“I’m SOBER!” Lance shrieked, facing the other way, talking to giant ice statue.  
  
“Christ,” Keith winced.  
  
Lance threw his drink at him. Keith gaped, and grabbed Lance, hauling him and his flat ass like a fireman.

Lotor sputtered, wiping off the rum from his face. His two thousand dollar fur coats stained with red. He sort of looked like Carrie from Prom before she went on rampage and killed everyone and their boyfriends.

In which everyone is Lance, and the boyfriend is Keith.

They should run by now.

  
**“ZETHRID! ATTACK!”  
**  
Keith ran like the roadrunner away from the human rhino.  
  
“AWWWW, LOTOR YOU WUSS! DON’T SEND DRAG QUEEN SHREK TO DO YOUR DIRTY WORK,” Lance spat. Someone threw an empty can at him. “TRY ME BITCH!”  
  
“Lance, shut the fuck up!” Keith yelled. “You’re going to get us killed!”  
  
“The only thing that can shut me up is my Mama’s goddamn chancla!”  
  
“FLAT ASS! YOU ARE MY IDOL EVEN IF YOUR EYELASHES ARE UNEVEN,” a high-pitched person screamed, followed by drunken cheers.  
  
“Thanks, hon!” Lance said with a smile, and then frowned. “MY ASS ISN’T FLAT WHAT THE FU-“  
  
Keith covered his mouth with a napkin as Lance yelled muffled Spanish insults while pounding poor Keith’s back.  
  
“YOU’RE THE HIGHLIGHT OF MY LOW LIFE!”  
  
“DUDE, SAAAAAVAAAAAAGE. STEP ON MY FACE!”  
  
“Am I seriously the only one sober in this fucking club?” Keith asked completely baffled.  
  
“THANK YOU FOR JOINING THE MOSH PIT, SHAKAH BRAH!”  
  
Lance gave Keith a triumphant smirk. “See! People say it.”  
  
Keith deadpanned, very unamused.  
  
“Quit being a grumpy cat, Keithy-boy,” Lance said, and then widened his as if he had discovered El Dorado. “Oh my god…Keithy…Hello Keithy.”  
  
Keith sighed painfully.  
  
.  
.  
.  
  
Lance threw his keys at Keith's face.  
  
Lance’s face flushed. He then pointed at himself. “Este tipo esta jalo y no puede manejar.”  
  
Keith closed his eyes and counted to ten. Patience yields focus.  
  
“I’m guessing you're saying that you can't drive?”  
  
“Sí,” Lance said, and then face plants on to the dirty pavement. Keith’s heart stopped.  
  
“Por favoooooooor…”  
  
“I really do think you have a drinking problem…” Keith said, sitting down with him. He placed his head on his lap and combed his sweaty bangs. He leaned down and kissed his forehead.  
  
“Keithy…you’re cradling me in your arms~~”  
  
“I sure am.”  
  
“I’m sober…very sober!”  
  
“No. You’re not.”  
  
“Whaaaaat? You don’t believe me?” Lance pouted.  
  
“Nah,” Keith shook his head.  
  
“Keith…you’re the man of my dreams,” Lance slurred, poking his cheek.  
  
Keith looked away. “Yeah…you too.”  
  
“You're the man of my dreams.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“You’re the man of my dreams.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“You’re the what to my Fuck.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Exactly.”  
  
Keith stared at him, with strange eyes. A chuckle erupted from his throat, until a steady stream came out turning into a burst of laughter, his entire body shaking. His cheeks hurt from smiling.

 

Lance poked at the piercing on his lip. “Keith…I lied.”  
  
Keith stopped, and something lurched from his chest. “…What?”  
  
Lance stared at him seriously, bearing the grim news.  
  
Keith’s heart pounded.  
  
Lance stared at him sadly.  
  
“I’m drunk.”  
  
Keith hit his chest without mercy. “Stop.”  
  
“I really am drunk.”  
  
“Yeah, no shit, sherlock.”  
  
“But my name is Lance…”  
  
Keith thumped his head against the card door. “No, you’re stupid. And drunk. Very much so.”  
  
“Oh…I’m stupid.”  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“I’m stupidly in love with you.”  
  
Keith groaned. “Why must you do this?”  
  
“I like seeing you flustered,” Lance said cheekily. “Get frustrated by me, iron-mask.”  
  
Lance yawned, snuggling into Keith’s stomach. “I’m sleepy.”  
  
“Then sleep.”  
  
“Tell me something I don’t know…” Lance said, and sighed. He felt darkness envelope him.  
  
**_“I love you.”  
_ **  
  
.  
  
  
.  
  
  
.  
  
“I can’t believe you don’t remember that night!” Keith said as he spat out his coffee. **“We had a bonding moment! I cradled you in my arms!”**  
  
“Nope.” Lance started packing his clothes in his suitcase, and wryly said, “I really don’t.”  
  
“You literally won a Roast with you ex!” Keith shrieked. “It was like some sort final showdown! Death match! Mortal Kombat!”  
  
“Ugh, don’t remind me of that douche,” Lance said as he made a face. “I remember throwing my drink at him though.”  
  
Ari was next to Keith, giving him the stink eye. “¿Por qué sigues viniendo a mi casa? ¿Te gusta mucho mi Papà?”  
  
Keith sighed. “I literally only got ‘mi casa’ from all that.”  
  
He looked at Lance, and saw his neck reddening from behind. “Yeah. You’re close.”  
  
“So how long are you going to be gone?” Keith asked, trying to put a safe distance away from the seething child.  
  
Lance turned and smiled. “Probably three or more days.”  
  
“Got it.”  
  
“Thank you, Keith,” Lance said softy. “For doing this…”  
  
“I’m just babysitting,” Keith said.  
  
Ari growled deeply. It was honestly impressive.  
  
Lance clicked his tongue, “Mijo, don’t be like that. Keith is offering to take care of you while I’m gone. You should have some….bonding moments with him.”  
  
Ari stared at his father hollow look, his voice sounding distant. “¿Estás loco?”  
  
“Don’t be dramatic,” Lance rolled his eyes.  
  
Hunk and Pidge appeared from the doorway both holding their own luggage.  
  
“C’mon, Lance. The Uber is coming here really soon,” Hunk said.  
  
“Right, okay!” Lance said, zipping the suitcase. He crouched down to Ari’s level with a bright grin. Ari pouted and crossed his arms. “I’ll miss you, Mijo.”  
  
Ari’s lip wobbled. “I’ll miss you too…Daddy.”  
  
Lance grimaced.  
  
Ari made a weird look. “Yep. That was gross. Bye, Papa.”  
  
Lance laughed, and kissed his forehead.  
  
“Keith, everything I wrote down is on the fridge,” Lance said. “I have my number and some emergency contacts on it, okay?”  
  
“Alright,” Keith said with a nod.  
  
The trio left.  
  
Ari and Keith were left alone in the empty apartment. They gave each other a quick glance, and then immediately looked away with twin looks of pain and anguish.  
  
**And so it begins…**  
  
  
_  
_

**Day 0**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was…something.
> 
> Till next time, leave a comment :) it helps me out a lot!
> 
> SCOTT PILGRIM WATCH IT!!!


	9. Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have enemies? Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life.
> 
> -Winston Churchill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part One of Keith POV
> 
> I would like to thank my wonderful and beautiful editor and BETA pal: galaxy-gayrrison 
> 
> Jesus fuck. This was sooooo long. omg. I might edit this later and add some more. 
> 
> But I'm probably going to split this into three parts. :)
> 
> Also someone told me I sounded like Tommy Pickles. LOL.

Keith was different.

 

It’s an universally acknowledged fact. If you could ask anyone what you could describe Keith Kogane, it would be _different_ . Keith had never really found it easy to explain why he was different. He _just was._

 

Keith…had done terrible things. Those things mostly involved Lance such as lying, neglecting, and not being of good enough for him. Keith had told Lance his secrets, his past, but not the entirety of his life. He wasn't ready for that. He trusted Lance so much that it scared him sometimes. How much he relied on him, craved him, cared for him.

 

Keith left out several blanks in his stories, his background. It was like telling a poorly written soap opera. He didn’t want Lance to know the exact truth, so that is why he couldn’t look at Lance properly. How he couldn't say _I love you_ back to him, and how much he wanted to vomit when Lance said it so easily.

 

Keith was mostly associated with the color red, but some people say he looked nice in black

It was fitting.

His past was vague like the color. His future wasn’t much better, it was dark, lacking of light, lacking of direction, lost..

 

If Lance knew how _different_ Keith was, then he would leave him. This is ironic because Lance had left him, and he couldn’t wrap his mind around that sometimes. He was a constant in his life, being there when he’d crash and burn. He would be there when he woke up in the morning, and see his ocean blue eyes that reminded him of safety.

 

Lance would find out who Keith really was, and will tell him he is ugly, despite him saying that he always loved him, and right afterwards shoved him. Called him toxic. Called him…intense.

 

 _You’re too_ **_intense_ ** _, Keith._

 

Keith had Lance. With Lance, he had caught so many people. Unlike him, Lance’s family stretched to his parents, his siblings, his cousins, his aunts and uncles…basically his entire bloodline. When Lance talked about them so fondly, recalling ridiculous shenanigans, Keith couldn’t help feel envious. It made him dizzy how Lance could remember…three thousand cousins. He didn’t know anymore, he stopped listening when he started talking about uncle Lorenzo VII’s boxing match.

 

We can start by breaking it down.

 

We start with Keith’s fears.

 

Keith did not have many fears. He has trained himself to keep his emotions in check, keep people away at a safe distance, trained himself to be _cold as steel_.

 

But Keith was human. He could think. He was  not an emotionless bastard like Lance said he was. _Get frustrated with me iron-mask_ , he said with that damn annoying shit-eating grin that Keith wanted to punch…with his mouth preferably.

 

But, yes, Keith had fears.

 

Keith was scared of nothing.

 

Okay, maybe that should have been worded better…

 

Keith was scared of…intangible things, things he couldn’t understand, things he couldn’t fight with, and maybe things he couldn’t see. Invisibility. The void. Oblivion. Feelings. Affection. Attachment.

 

Keith was scared of judgment. He might look like he didn’t give a shit what people say…he didn’t, most of the time anyways. Keith grew up in a small town in Texas where everyone and their mother knew each other. It was so easy to make a single mistake, a big fat sin. It was the guilt on his shoulders that weighed him down, that drowned him into the sea of prejudice. He tried shrug them off like dust. They are only words, they are as light as air.

 

He didn’t want to be guilty for being himself.  

 

But, his dad.

 

His dad was a good guy. Keith could never be him, unlike Takashi…or Shiro as he liked to be called. Shiro didn’t want to be called by his real name because of the way everyone butchered it, their uncultured mouths unable to form the proper sounds ‘Ta-kuh-shay,’ they would say... To Keith, he is _Shiro_ . To dad, he is _Takashi_.

 

Shiro was his older brother. His family. But biology says otherwise. Takashi was his cousin. Dad wasn’t his father. His parents…they were gone. Ma and Pa…he didn’t really know what happened to them. But, he did remember that day in bits. Their faces were blank, blurry in his mind. they dropped him off at his distant uncle’s house. They left him with his backpack, his hippo plushie and his last name.

 

For all he knew, they could have been convicts on the run. Most likely, they were dead. Actually Keith was pretty sure they were dead. Dad used to say they were questionable people. Keith says that he never met his parents, which is partly true. His parents were strangers, non-existent. They were the type of people who would erase their identities and start anew. 

 

Keith was often asked why he and Shiro had different last names. Keith didn’t say anything because he didn’t think it is any of their damn business. So Shiro answered them with a polite, but sad smile:

 

“Our parents are divorced,” Shiro would say. Which is such a big fucking lie, a big fat sin. People bought it, but they talked about it. It circulated in their quiet, lazy, cow dump of a town.

 

Keith was playing with Shiro in the living room. His parents and Shiro’s dad are talking, they’re arguing in soft voices. Keith doesn’t understand because didn’t know how to speak English that time, so he forgot. All he knew was that Ma and Pa left him there, without a word, and never came back.

 

So, Keith doesn’t have a _Pa_ , but a dad.

 

Are you keeping up? Keith wasn’t really good at explaining, so he was trying his best.

 

Keith thought that maybe that’s why he’s fucked up. His actual parents wanted nothing to do with him. They left him with a single man with a son who was wiser beyond his years.

 

 _“Okay, okay! Ryu, you can do this! Don’t be weak!”_ Keith used to hear his dad say.

 

Keith would smile, pretend to understand, and nod.

 

_“You’re hungry, right Keith? Let’s get out. We can go out to eat.”_

 

_Keith nodded._

 

_“You can eat something tasty!”_

 

_Keith nodded._

 

And another is his dad’s expectations and he is so frightened of him condemning him because Dad attended church regularly, told him Bible passages, and gave thanks before they eat. Keith doesn’t know when or how he stopped believing in Holy Father. Maybe he really didn’t because his only father is Dad.

 

.

.

.

 

Keith’s childhood.

 

His first day in school was great.

 

_“Most of the kids go to school here, so you can make good friends really easily.”_

 

_Keith frowned, and gripped his backpack’s straps tightly._

 

_Keith looked at his dad, hesitantly. “What…if…I do not have friends?”_

 

_“You will,” His dad said with encouraging grin, “Because like your Ma, you have a very nice smile.”_

 

_Keith stayed silent, processing his words slowly._

 

_“If anyone talks to you, then smile! No one can get mad with a smiling face. Got it?”_

 

_Keith smiled and nodded._

 

_“Smile alright? No matter how hard it is, okay son?_

 

_“Yes…Dad.”_

 

_._

_._

_._

 

Just kidding. School _fucking_ sucked.

 

Everyone knew each other, and just stared at him oddly…like _who the hell was this kid?_

 

Who could he talk to? Who could help him? Keith really wanted the day to end and go home.

 

Someone tapped his shoulder. “Hi, are you new here? Did you move here recently?”

 

“H-Hi..” Keith said stiffly, like chewing rock. _Smile, smile, smile. Just smile._

 

 _“_ Hey…so like I wanted to be class president this year, so could you vote for me, please?”

 

“Yes,” Keith said.

 

“Awesome! What’s your name, pal?”

 

“Aki—Keith…Kogane.” Keith is not Akira any more. Akira died when his parents left. Keith is **Keith**.

 

“Alright, _Keith Kogane,_ ” the boy emphasised with a toothy grin. “I’m Logan Bishop.”

 

“Lo- _gan_.”

 

“Yep!” Logan said, “Since we’re sitting next to each other this year, let’s be friends.”

 

**_What…wait. He said that too fast._ **

 

Keith only caught that last part, so he smiled. “Okay.”

 

.

.

.

 

“So who’s he?”

 

“Oh, it’s the kid who sits next Logan.”

 

“Really? He looks like he’s in pain.”

 

“Yeah. He’s going to split his face if he keeps smiling like that.”

 

“What a weirdo.”

 

.

.

.

 

Keith didn’t understand what the fuck his teacher was saying, so he just pretended to read the text on his book as he spared quick glances to the clock.

 

It wasn’t really a surprise whenever Keith returned home with Fs and Ds to his name, being bruised and scratched, and to be called hurtful names.

 

.

.

.

 

Keith got beat up a lot when he was younger, more so when he was older.

 

He remembered being pushed down onto dead grass, staring up at the sleazy yellow-teeth grins of pudgy boys. He remembered because Keith had longer hair than most boys, almost as long as a girl’s. He did not speak English. He did not have money. He did not look like others.

 

 _“Quit smiling, you look like an_ **_idiot_ ** _.”_

 

_“Why don’t you say anything? Are you retarded?”_

 

_“You have a tongue. Use it.”_

 

He gave them a wobbly smile in return. _Smile, just smile._

 

.

.

.

 

“Hey, does anyone know that kid? ”

 

“Hm? Oh! That’s Keith,” Logan said.

 

Keith shot up from his desk, eyes wide.

 

“Hey Keith, come over here and meet my buddies!” Logan said, motioning to come.

 

Keith shuffled toward them, clenching his hands together. “H-hello.”

 

“What…I couldn’t hear you, dude.”

 

“H-hello…”

 

“What? can you say that louder?”

 

“ **HELLO**!” Keith practically shouted. The boys winced from the sound, covering their ears.

 

“I am Keith Kogane,” he said, pointing to himself.

 

The boys looked at each other for a second and then laughed.

 

_“Funny guy.”_

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Keith liked hanging out with Logan and his buddies. They were the cool kids in the school, perhaps the neighborhoods as well. Kids started noticing him, but not exactly engaging any bonds. Although, he didn’t really feel like they were really friends. It was more like they were only talking to him because of his association with those cool kids. The only good thing was that the beating up had toned down to a degree.

 

But it particularly hurt whenever the bullies came, and they’d leave Keith immediately as if he had the plague.

 

It was like having imaginary friends, just talking to air, expecting someone to say something back or at least something relevant. He followed them like a shadow, always at a distance, but a constant presence. As soon he wasn’t he needed, he’d be gone and ignored.

 

.

.

.

 

“Hey, I heard that Keith’s dad isn’t his real dad.”

 

“What? Really? They do look alike…”

“That sounded so racist. Dude.”

“Whatever...so where’s his parents?”

“They say his parents died or they were some kind of ex-convicts who ran into trouble...like some kind of shady business.”

“Wow…”

“I know...I don’t want to be near him. What if he comes and pickpockets me?”

“Same...let’s tell everyone else, okay? Just to warn them…”

“Right! I can’t believe Logan hangs out with him.”

 

.

.

.

 

Logan was a nice guy. He let Keith hang out with him and his posse. They went to the arcade together. He gave Keith a walkman from those the claw machines.

 

“I don’t really need it,” he said, and took out his iPod. “You can have it.”

 

Keith held the device in his hand. He looked up to him and smiled genuinely with red cheeks.“Thank you,” he murmured quietly, trying to tame the heart palpitations, “Logan.”

 

Logan returned to mashing the buttons a Street Fighter game, not sparing a glance. “Don’t mention it, dude.”

 

And Keith had a crush.

 

.

.

.

 

“Hey, Keith,” a red haired girl approached him, holding out an envelope. Her name was Odette, Keith thought.

 

“Oh...Hi,” Keith replied, looking up from his math homework.

 

Odette gave him a small smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I have my birthday this Saturday and _everyone_ is going...since you’re new and all, I thought you’d want to come.”

 

Keith was silent.

 

 **Logan** would be coming too.

 

She fidgeted.

 

“Sure,” he said, bright smile in place.

 

.

.

.

 

Keith wore his nicest looking clothes, which were just Shiro’s hand-me-downs. At least it didn’t have stitches or falling off his shoulder.

 

As predicted, Logan was there, laughing at some guy’s joke. He turned his head and caught Keith’s eye. “Hey dude!”

 

“Hey,” Keith said, shuffling closer. His ratty sneakers squeaking on the polished floor.

 

“I didn’t know you were coming,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “You don’t seem like the type.”

 

“I thought it was cool,” Keith said

 

“Aight,” Logan said, his gaze traveled to a large circle congregated. “Spin the bottle!”

 

The kid next to him snickered, “You might get to kiss Odette.”

 

“Shut up!” exclaimed Logan, blushing.

 

“You like Odette…” Keith said.

 

“No!” Logan said, almost yelling. People spared him strange looks. He burned even more. “I...do think she’s pretty.

 

Keith nodded quiet, smile in place.

 

.

.

.

 

Mr. McClain, Odette’s dad ushered some skinny kid into the circle, telling him to go join them.

 

“Uncle, are you seriously kidding me?” the kid said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know half the kids here. I have better things to do,” pointing to the Nintendo in his hand.

 

“Lance, c’mon. It would be fun,” Mr. McClain said, chuckling, “Go make some friends, I have to talk to your dad.”

 

“God, I wish Greg was here,” Lance said, plopping his butt next to Keith. “It wouldn’t be so boring.”

 

Keith spared a glance at the boy next to him. He stared at his profile. Fluffy brown hair, tanned skin with freckles, and really impossibly blue eyes framed with long eyelashes... Odette’s eyes looked dull compared to them, Logan as well.

 

“What are you looking at?” Lance said, raising an eyebrow. “Do I have frosting on my face?”

 

“No,” Keith said, blinking as he cocked his head to his side. “I think you’re pretty.”

 

The kid stared at him, ocean blue eyes wide. His cheeks and neck turned to a ruddy red, making his freckles more evident.

 

“Sh-shut up,” Lance said as he huffed. “Don’t say stuff like that...it’s embarrassing.”

 

“It’s true.”

 

“Who are you?” Lance said with narrowed eyes.

 

“Keith.”

 

“Well, Keith...don’t talk to me,” and then he turned away, “Weirdo.”

 

.

.

.

 

Logan spun the bottle.

 

It landed on Keith.

 

“Okay, I’m doing it again,” Logan said.

 

Keith’s palms got sweaty. He controlled his rapid beating heart. Lance pursed his lips, looking away.

 

“What...why?” Keith asked.

 

“Um, isn’t it obvious?” Logan said, scoffing. “You’re a boy.”

 

_...Was it not okay?_

 

.

.

.

 

“It was good for you to come and visit, Rick,” Mr. McClain said grinning.

 

“Same, brother,” Rick said, giving him a side hug.

 

“Can we go now?” Lance whined, tapping his foot impatiently. “This town is boring.”

 

“I have to agree to that,” Mr. McClain said, chuckling heartily. “We might move somewhere else soon, hopefully nearer to you guys.”

 

Lance rolled his eyes, and it land on Keith’s gaze.

 

Keith gave him an awkward wave.

 

Lance narrowed his eyes, and gave him a secret middle finger.

 

And then they left. That was the last time Keith saw the blue eyed boy.

 

.

.

.

 

Keith didn’t know his own heritage. He doesn’t exactly remember what his parents looked like, but he was sure they were an interracial couple.  He had greyish-blue eyes, bordering on the violet side. Dad said he took mostly after his biological dad, but his unique eye color was definitely from his mother. Keith didn’t have any pictures of them, so he’s trusting Dad’s descriptions.

 

When the teachers handed out identification cards, he was stumped at one question.

 

Question 7

Ethnicity

Please check one box:

  * African American/African/Black/Caribbean
  * Asian/Pacific Islander
  * Caucasian
  * Hispanic/Latino
  * Prefer not to answer



 

The teacher must have seen his face, most likely looking like he was mentally constipated, and went over his seat.

 

“Just pick Asian,” she said.

 

“But…” Keith said, gripping his pen. “I’m…”

 

“Don’t give yourself a hard time, Kogane.”

 

Was Keith really giving himself a hard time because he didn’t know where he came from?

 

So Keith asked Dad.

 

“Hm, that is something, Son…” His dad said, reclining in his ratty arm chair, scratching his stubble.

 

“It was just a dumb box. I didn’t even check anything,” Keith huffed. “I don’t know why it affected me so much.”

 

Dad pondered on this.

 

Keith sat cross-legged, waiting on his answer like some kind of homily.

 

“You just make your own box, Keith.”

 

“My own...box?”

 

“Yep!” he said popping the ‘P’. He smiled at him warmly, exactly like a father should. “You don’t need to follow what society thinks as socially correct. They have a very weird social construct. We don’t necessarily need to follow those things. We’re all different individuals. Don’t let anyone tell you so, besides! America is like a melting pot of races. Think outside the box.”

 

Keith smiled and nodded.

 

.

.

.

 

“What happened to your face?” asked Shiro one night as he did his advanced calculus homework. He was still in uniform. It was yellow long sleeve shirt with dark grey pants. His jacket draped on his computer chair, the school crest on the chest pocket.

 

Shiro went to a well-known boarding school that was four hours away from home. He usually came back every weekend, and Keith was always excited to see him. Shiro had so many new stories from school. It could range from boring old classes to outrageous things like a food fight or a scandal between a teacher and a student.

 

“It’s nothing,” Keith said, covering the bruise on his cheek. That was from a particularly nasty fight. He continued reading his book, taking note of unfamiliar words to research in the computer later.

 

Shiro turned his chair to face him fully. He leaned in closer to inspect the dark purple bruise. He frowned at the sight.

 

“Keith,” Shiro started, concern in his voice. “Are you being bullied?”

 

Keith shook his head, “No.”

 

“Don’t lie,” Shiro said, sounding upset. “Are there any kids pushing you around?”

 

“...Yes.”

 

Shiro sighed, “Why haven’t you said anything?”

 

“I don’t want them to be in trouble.”

 

“They deserve to be called out on it,” Shiro said. “You should tell the teachers, better yet, you should tell Dad, so he could report it to the school.”

 

“Shiro, it’s okay,” Keith sighed. “I don’t want to lose my friends.”

 

“What? How are they your friends?”

 

“They...just are.”

 

“How are they your friends when they just let you get beat up?”

 

“I don’t want to cause any problems! It’s going to burden them, and it is not their business,” Keith explained, “they’re not stupid. If they help me out, they’d get beat up too.”

 

“That’s just idiotic!” Shiro exclaimed. “Why do they do that Keith? Have you done something wrong? I highly doubt that. You are such a quiet kid.”

 

“I only smile,” Keith shrugged, “Dad says to smile no matter what.”

 

Shiro pondered on this, rubbing his chin like Dad did when he thought long and hard. “Well...sometimes it’s okay to not smile...such as situations like this. That’s nothing to smile about.”

 

“But Dad said--”

 

“You don’t need to smile about things like that,” Shiro said. “It’s okay to get angry at things like this, or sad even. It’s okay to be...all of those things.”

 

Keith ducked his head down, his fringe covering his eyes.

 

“Sometimes smiling makes you look like a pushover,” Shiro said, twirling the pencil he held. “It makes you look weak, easy to manipulate.”

 

“Shiro...you smile too,” Keith commented, pointing at his mouth.

 

“That’s because people learned to respect me,” Shiro said, “I am...something else. That’s what they say anyways.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Well, you see...the school I got to is a little hard to get in, even if you had the money to afford it.”

 

“We don’t have money,” Keith said frankly.

 

Shiro grimaced, “Yeah, we don’t. So I had to work hard. I got myself a scholarship with my grades and my involvement with certain clubs like lacrosse and the student council.”

 

“That sounds exhausting,” Keith said wryly. “You make it sound like being ‘cool’ is something you can be really easily.”

 

“It is exhausting,” Shiro said with a laugh, “I wasn’t cool in the beginning. I was just some random asian kid who came out of some town in the middle of nowhere. They thought I was some sort of dumb country bumpkin.”

 

“That sounds mean,” Keith said. “I didn’t know you were bullied.” Shiro was like...Captain America, or something. He had a good sense of justice and a really amazing six pack.

 

“It was. I didn’t like it,” Shiro agreed with a quick nod. “I learned to stand my ground and prove them wrong.”

 

“Prove them wrong,” Keith repeated, the words echoing in his head, reverberating in his skull.

 

Keith’s mind wandered.

 

 _Keith had longer hair than most boys, almost as long as a girl’s. He did not speak_ **_English_ ** _. He did not have_ **_money_ ** _. He did not_ **_look like_ ** _others._

 

**_“Quit smiling, you look like an idiot.”_ **

 

Keith was maybe all of those things, but he was not an **idiot**.

 

“Prove them wrong, Little Red,” Shiro said with a bright _smile._ “Kick those wolves’ hairy butts. You don’t need a hunter to help you out.”

 

Keith liked the idea to prove people wrong. He is not a weakling. He will not stand to be pushed around like some dirty rag doll. So Keith tried to become better.

 

Be **Smarter**.

 

When summer rolled in, Keith started to go to work.

 

Keith went to the public library everyday and studied. He took online quizzes and read the assigned readings. He practiced his speech patterns. He declined his dad’s every offer to play, go out, or have bonding moments. _Whatever that meant…_

 

Keith read classics. He read Moby Dick, Alice in Wonderland, Wuthering Heights, and _Peter Pan._

 

.

.

.

 

“The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease for ever to be able to do it.”

― [ **J.M. Barrie** ](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5255014.J_M_Barrie) , **Peter Pan**

 

So Keith learned to fly.

 

.

.

.

 

Be **Stronger**

 

Keith started doing ten laps a day. If it was raining, Keith borrowed his dad’s weights and lifted them for at least a hundred fifty times. He joined Shiro whenever he went out for a morning run. He did push ups, planking, and started punching the tree out in the backyard. His knuckles bruised, bloodied, and splintered. So he asked his dad for some money to buy some fingerless gloves.

 

Keith watched Martial Arts videos after watching a Bruce Lee movie.

 

He kicked Shiro’s ass.

 

.

.

.

 

Be **Sharper**

 

Keith developed a silver tongue.

 

_You might need some ice for that burn._

 

.

.

.

 

Be **Cooler**

 

Keith looked at himself in the mirror.

 

He stared at the needle in his trembling hand. He _‘borrowed’_ his dad’s lighter and held it on the other.

 

“This is so dumb,” Keith said to himself.

 

Yet, he hadn’t put down the items.

 

Keith sucked in a shaky breath and lit the needle on fire.

 

As soon it was hot enough, he raised to his eyes, staring into the sharp point.

 

He turned to his side, and placed the needle near his ear. He penetrated into the skin, feeling the searing hot pain. Keith grinded his teeth together, squeezing his eyes shut and the tiny pricks of tears. He is literally **_impaling_ ** himself.

 

He immediately removed the needle, and threw it across the room.

 

He looked at his work.

 

Well, there’s a hole.

 

As soon as he was sure his ear wasn’t infected and was fully healed, he inserted a safety pin in the hole. Yeah, he looked like a douche. But a _cool_ one.

 

" **Bitchin** '."

 

.

.

.

 

When school rolled in, everyone slowly growing into the cusp of puberty.

 

Everyone stared at Keith, eyes wide and mouth agape. Some kids pointed at him, uttering whisperers under their breaths.

 

“Is that **Keith**?”

 

“He grew taller.”

 

“He has a piercing!”

 

When Keith spoke, his accent disappeared. Keith handed his test results earlier than everyone else, and ended up getting the highest score. He did not talk to anyone, unless he was spoken to. He beat up the kids who beat him up in the first place. He perfected the calm, cool facade, a permanent scowl line, and deathly glare in his eyes.

 

Keith did not **_smile_ **.

 

.

.

.

 

“Keith,” Logan looked at him with surprised eyes. “You...look different.”

 

“Yeah,” Keith said gruffly, wiping the blood off his split lip. “I feel like it too.”

 

“I mean...you look like some hero in a Japanese anime...Sasuke?”

 

Keith narrowed his eyes, raising a sharp eyebrow. “Don’t compare me to that emo guy.”

 

“Jesus, you sound just like him too.”

 

Keith sighed, propping his chin on his knee. He turned to him with a heavy gaze.

 

Logan stared at the TV screen, controller in hand, fingers mashing into the buttons. Logan’s face was highlight by the glow of the screen, casting dark shadows on his sharp features.

His brows were furrowed in concentration, his tongue peeking out the corner of his lip. His jaw was clenched. He looked...nice.

 

Keith stared at his cheek, and leaned. He kissed it.

 

Logan froze and stared.

 

“I like you.”

 

.

.

.

 

Keith and Logan didn’t end up dating.

 

But Logan had this really fucked up idea.

 

“So! We could maybe practice kissing on each other…”

 

“What the fuck, Logan.”

 

“Hey, I’m not gay, dude.”

 

“...Gay?”

 

“Liking boys.”

 

“...Gay.”

 

“Aren’t you?”

 

Keith pondered on it, scratching his chin. He thought of the blue-eyed boy and tanned skin.

 

“Hell yeah.”

 

And so their lips met.

 

.

.

.

 

People wondered why Logan’s lips were puffy.

 

Keith grinned inwardly, smiling at the comments.

 

“You are smooching someone aren’t you?” someone teased, pointing out the red and gnawed lips.

 

“Hm, maybeeee.”

 

Logan grinned, and he looked at Keith’s way. He winked.

 

Keith flushed, turning the other way, feeling very giddy.

 

Odette was behind him.

 

.

.

.

 

“I think...we should stop.”

 

“What?”

 

“...I have a thing for Odette,” Logan explain, not looking at his eyes. “I asked her out.”

 

“And?”

 

“She said yes!” Logan said, jumping up and down in excitement. “I think this kissing thing would help me out if I do manage to mack on her.”

 

Keith was quiet, and then _smiled_.

 

“Fuck you.”

 

Then promptly knocked him out with his fist. A large purple bruise blooming on his jaw.

 

.

.

.

 

**Am I Cool?**

By Keith Kogane

 

That is the one of greatest realisations I have had in life

I didn’t deserve to follow blind orders, live in strife

Despite the pressure of those who expected much from me

I let go of it, feel them disappear, and slip away like ribbons flowing into the air

In that moment, I felt lighter, better even

All those complicated thoughts leaving

Creating an overwhelming fuss about absolutely nothing

Maybe...Maybe…I just wanted to be respected

To be seen as iron, strong, fearless, non-weakling

To be seen as someone worth the interest, worth the attention

To be seen as someone who looks like he’s got it all figured it out

But I never have, did I?

 

Again, am I cool?

Not that I’m being pushy, but I am human

Trying to experience life at lukewarm

Staying at the spectrum of tepid interest

But now I’m at an utter distress

Embraced tightly by a mistress called judgment

 

Was I not cool enough?

I used asked that to myself everyday

Wondering why no one bothered to at least have something to say

To my face, never minding the wide space

Only to be asked when needed, an immediate saving grace

 

And again, and again, I will ask ‘am I cool?'

Expectations will be shed away like snake skin

I won’t be stuck in between, but rather

Shrugging off the mean, the ugly comments

Because I will tell you

What it means to be cool

To be cool is to love, is to accept who you are

And to love what you are

To live life unexpectedly, full of mistakes, but great prospects

Now is a good time to reflect

I did say that I did not care, but not necessarily

In a way, that stopped me from being who i am

And that is that I care about people, about the future, about art, about the beyond

I am not really ashamed that I’m different, and if I could come back in time and change what I’ve done

It will stay the same, because it is fine

Because the key to being you is to share your passion

and I think that’s pretty cool. So I guess that makes me pretty cool

 

.

.

.

 

Dad got cancer.

 

From the doctor’s visits to the treatment therapy and then to shutting off respirators, It was endless nightmare of visiting that goddamn hospital. The radiation, the chemo and the whole fucking thing. They didn’t work. The bone marrow transplant failed. The cancer spread into his blood, into his integral organs. Keith practically memorised the hospital room. The white walls, the disinfectant, the IV drips, and stupid fake ficus in the corner.

 

Shiro’s hair started turning white from the stress of it all. His hands locked with Keith’s in a silent prayer. Trying to be strong in this endless loop of remission, relapse, remission…

 

Fucking **_relapse_ **.

 

Over a year of deep frustrations, ceaseless worry, nauseating anger, and a soul-sucking sadness, it encompassed Keith, swallowed him whole like some black hole ready to suck in all the happiness in him. He was going into a downwards spiral. He sat in his room. Shiro waiting outside, knocking weakly on the door.

 

Keith was on his bed, knees tucked in, forehead on top. The black storm raging in his head. He couldn’t even comprehend the calamity brewing in his skull. He was ready to burst any moment, ready to be shattered into a million pieces. Keith was utterly surprised by the lack of emotions after what happened in those months. The ringing in his ears, and the coldness in his hands. Keith was numb.

 

He didn’t know what to do. The white men knew though, the men who wore blank faces, and detached voices. They were apparently going to shut off the machine that made Dad breathe. How could he fucking begin to accept that?

 

It wasn’t that things didn’t hold any sense of import. Keith was just so exhausted to being angry or even having enough energy to even have emotions, let alone the anger. He had come to hate the world, but he was so fucking tired at this point. He didn’t have the strength to hate.

 

How could he? His small family was dangerously getting smaller.

 

Shit.

 

He should have...he should have done those bonding moments with Dad.

 

He should have cherished him.

 

He should have loved him as much as his dad loved him. He wasn’t even his _real_ son.

 

He should have done more.

 

_“Keith…”_

 

_“Dad.”_

 

_“I just...I’m sorry.”_

 

_“You don’t have nothing to be sorry for.”_

 

_“You...should have got a better dad.”_

 

_“What?”_

 

_“I...you are a such an amazing boy. I saw you grow, saw you become better than the rest.”_

 

_“Dad…”_

 

_“God. I should have helped with your homework…” he chuckled weakly. “I...you know when you graduated...making that valedictorian speech.”_

 

_“Yeah…”_

 

_“I cried like a baby,” he said, smiling at him “You...were...so...amazing.”_

 

_“Dad…”_

 

_“Parents talked to me...saying ‘your boy is a genius’, ‘so handsome’, ‘you must be so damn proud’.”_

 

_“Yeah…”_

 

_“I...felt so ashamed.”_

 

_“Why?”_

 

_“I wasn’t there...for you. Takashi told me you got picked on a lot.”_

 

_“You didn’t have to, Dad. I got to this point by myself.”_

 

_“Yes, I am so proud of you...Keith.” His dad coughed harshly. “I just wished I held your hand as you grew up to be here, to be this person.”_

 

_“Fuck.”_

 

_“Language, Son.” Dad held his hand._

 

_“You’re...still….Dad, I don’t want to let go of you.”_

 

_“I should have been there...help you have a better childhood...instead working hard...you should have been a normal kid...should have fun...with...life.”_

 

_“I...Dad. You gave me a chance to live.”_

 

_“Keith...you haven’t smiled...since then. You...weren’t living...just breathing.”_

 

_“...I’m sorry.”_

 

_“It’s fine...just...live life. Have bonding moments.”_

 

_“Okay…” Keith sucked in a breath. “Dad, I need to tell you something.”_

 

_“What is it, Son?”_

 

_“...I’m gay.”_

 

_His dad was silent, and then chuckled lightly._

 

_“That’s nothing to be worried about.”_

 

_“...really?”_

 

_“Being gay doesn’t make you any less than a man,” he said, rubbing Keith’s knuckles. “and it definitely does not make you any less than my son.”_

 

_Keith sobbed, throat clogging the air._

 

_“Keith...I need to go soon.”_

 

 _“Don’t go,” Keith cried. “Don’t leave me...don’t leave me like my parents did._ **_Please_ ** _.”_

 

_“I’m so sorry, Keith,” he said, a tear falling. “You...I love you, Son. My son.”_

 

_“I...I love you too,” Keith said shakily, and hugged him, feel his warmth, feel the smile pressed into his hair. “I love you so much, Dad.”_

 

And then switch flipped.

 

Dad stopped breathing.

 

.

.

.

 

“Keith,” Shiro started.

 

“What!” Keith growled, packing his bags.

 

“I’m going to miss you,” Shiro said, smiling sadly.

 

“...Really?”

 

Shiro scoffed. “Of course! You’re my little brother.”

 

“Shiro, we won’t be seeing each other again...you do realize that?”

 

“Yeah,” Shiro said, sucking a shaky breath. “I...don’t think I’m going to college.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m probably going to join the army or something,” he said.

 

“What...why? Shiro, you’re good enough for those scholarships! You...You don’t need to do that. You’re so smart and strong and--and--”

 

“Keith,” Shiro sighed. “This is my choice, okay? My choice.”

 

“Fuck, man.”

 

“Language,” Shiro scolded, and then said, “We’re going to find each other, alright? Someday soon.”

 

Keith swallowed. “I’m going to find you. We...we only have each other.”

 

“Yeah,” Shiro said, ruffling his shaggy hair. “Just...Whatever happens, we are **brothers**.”

 

Keith dropped his shirt, and hugged Shiro tightly. “I’m going to miss you, brother.”

 

“I’ll miss you too,” Shiro said, squeezing him. “My college funds...they’re yours. You go, okay?”

 

“What?”

 

“You go to college.”

 

“Me?” Keith said, “...I don’t know.”

 

“Do this for me, go to college,” Shiro said with a strong voice, “I want you to be the best out there. Get a degree, have a good job, and maybe find a nice guy.”

 

“What...You knew?”

 

Shiro rolled his eyes, “The minute you started yapping about that Logan guy, I figured it out.”

 

“Oh, don’t even mention him,” Keith hissed, hitting Shiro’s shoulder. “Fuck that guy. What a dick.”

 

“Go find someone you want to spend the rest of your life with,” Shiro said. “Expand your family, have bonding moments.”

 

“...Okay.”

 

.

.

.

 

Keith bounced from family to family. High school to high school. Beat up people. Got beat up. 

Snuck out of his house, get wasted, get beat up, and get yelled at. 

 

He started wearing dark clothing, got his ears pierced, and faked an ID to get a tattoo.

 

He went to parties. It was boring as fuck though, he only went for the booze.

 

And as soon as he lost his virginity _(is that even real?_ Keith thought.)

 

He started going for the sex too.

 

.

.

.

 

Keith moved to a big city.

 

The hustle bustle of crowds surprised. People pushing past him, not bothering any apologies. They all had different faces, different races. They wore their clothes differently, some traditional culture outfits, some wore sharp business suits, and some wore barely any clothes. Keith saw plenty of men wearing short skirts and high heels. They wore heavy makeup, but they looked even prettier than those girls in Vogue magazines. Keith was amazed. Although, it wasn’t exactly his type. Keith like biceps and abs and short hair and long legs and baggy clothes and and and--

 

“ _Lance_!” someone yelled from the a distance.

 

Keith turned to around and saw the prettiest guy he saw in his life.

 

Shit. He is so gay. He is so very **_gay_ **.

 

“Where have you been!?” a short person shrieked, looking like they were from middle-school. Keith wasn’t sure if they were a girl or boy. He doesn’t think it really mattered because he was going to get a headache if he thinks too hard on it. “What the fuck. We were literally waiting for you for almost an hour.”

 

“Sorry!” Lance said sheepishly. “I fell asleep on the subway.”

 

“What!” Some big guy said, flailing his thick arms. “You could have gotten mugged!”

 

“Well, I didn’t.” He stuck out his tongue. “C’mon orientation is about to start.”

 

Keith stared at his retreating form.

 

“...”

 

Well, here goes nothing. Keith walked into the double doors.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think of our resident emo boy?
> 
> Also i want to smash my face on my keyboard!!!
> 
> Wtf this chapter was…not so good? (~_~;)
> 
> This defo needs work


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life gets Loco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank my wonderful and beautiful editor and BETA pal: galaxy-gayrrison
> 
> THIS WAS SO EXHAUSTING OMG. 
> 
> But it is worth it? Maybe.
> 
> My computer is a dick, so I might spelled some Spanish really wrong. :( 
> 
> So you know, I'm going to edit this again… and repost it. LOL.
> 
> Also this chapter was heavily influenced by my favorite Webtoon: That Summer (its so great guys, please read it. :D )
> 
> Special Thanks and credits to my AMAZING FRIEND: hodginsismylife from Tumblr. They are so hilarious :D  
> You legit saved me from headaches and shitty translations. Thanks for being patient with me and for tolerating my dumb jokes. YOUR SPANISH IS MY SAVING GRACE. Hope you have nice days everyday! <3

Keith wasn’t good with kids.

 

He had always thought that kids were a handful of annoying mini-monsters. Keith was just one of those guys who couldn't take care of kids. Pass him a baby, they would start screaming bloody murder. Leave him with a kid? Keith was about seventy percent sure he was not going to let them starve.

 

Keith was a slightly responsible adult with the impulse of a coyote on crack. He didn’t exactly have his shit together, but he was working on it. He was just really busy, okay? Keith was practically married to his career after tracking and finding Shiro. Finding his brother was his goal. It was what kept him going for years. Shiro was the only thing he could still call family. He would always prioritise Shiro among everything, and that included... Lance.

 

Here was a thing Keith had learned over the years, it wasn’t a good method, but it did always help him figure out what to do when things got too hard. Usually, Keith would hold his hand up, five fingers fingers spread apart. Each one represented one precious thing in life:

 

**Family**

**Friends**

**Dream**

**Money**

**Love**

 

Things like that were necessary to life.

 

Then he would imagine them, see the pictures behind his eyelids, and conjure them in his head. Between those, he took one out by comparing which one was more important than the other and then keep going, keep comparing, and take out all the _unnecessary_ things until there was only one left.

 

Have you tried it?

 

It is a surprisingly effective way to see the most important thing in your life. See it as your one true goal, and let everything else go.

 

Lance would understand, Keith had reasoned. He loved his family as much as Keith loved Shiro. He talked about them, talked about how much he missed them. He continuously told Keith stories pertaining to his wacky household.

 

But then, Lance did not understand. He did not understand Keith. It was the cause of why they fell apart. They fought, called each other horrible names, and then leave, only to come back to each other. Lance was not stupid, he was surprisingly observant. He could read people, like reading their minds. Lance always told Keith this, but he had also told him that reading Keith was almost like cracking the world’s hardest code. That was not true, not even a little bit. Lance could _read_ Keith perfectly, he knew Keith, or as much as Keith could tell him. It is sort of ironic, Lance knows. He knew that Keith lied to him, and doesn’t bat an eyelash because he assumed Keith would eventually tell him. It scared Keith,how much Lance actually trusted him…much less _loved him._

 

Loved. Past tense.

 

It was hard to let go of Lance. He was like an iron clamp tied around his wrist. He was like those dumb cutesy stickers he stuck on his phone case. They wouldn’t peel off completely if he tried to remove them.

 

Lance knew.

 

Keith still found it so painful to look at him. Keith completely forgot about Lance, even forgetting his goddamn name. Present Lance was much more mature and tired. He had brown hair which was rather…new. Lance had the affinity to dye his hair in different vibrant colours, but Keith always thought the blue hair made his eyes prettier.

 

He was not opposed to the natural colour he was adorning. It was refreshing. It was change.

 

Keith wanted change. Honestly, he kinda just wanted Lance too. Keith was still very much gay and yes, Lance had gotten a lot hotter over the years.

 

And damn it! He was going to change for the better.

 

Starting with Lance’s kid who might as well be the spawn of Satan.

 

The _Spanish speaking spawn of Satan._

 

“So…What do you want to do?” asked Keith, forcing his voice to sound cheery.

 

Ari narrowed his blue eyes, which painfully reminded him of those times when Lance was pissed off at him, which was all the time apparently.

 

Keith sighed and then said, “Ari, your dad trusted me with you and I’m really trying to get his trust back.”

 

Ari sighed, and gave him tired eyes. “Tengo hambre. ¿Puedes pedir pizza?””

 

“Okay, _pizza_ , got it,” Keith said, going over the telephone.

 

As Keith dialled the number, Ari started going to word. His face split into an evil smirk. Ari grabbed his bag full of Legos, silently dropping them on the floor before going to his room.

 

“Ari, what do you want?” Keith asked, and with the lack of a response, noticed the small Cuban child had left, he sighed into the receiver and said, “Hold on.”

 

Keith took one step and promptly fell on the floor, face colliding on the tiles.

 

“What the hell!?” He staggered up, but felt pain shoot up on his knee. He looked down, and noticed the array of scattered Legos. “Are you kidding me?”

 

Ari poked his head out fromhis room, a carefully placed blank look. “Keith, ¿te moriste?, ¿por que estas en el suelo?” _Keith, are you dead? Why are you on the floor?_

 

“High school Spanish did not prepare me to understand a five year old,” Keith mumbled under his breath, trying to extract the Legos embedded on his arms. It left angry red marks on his pale skin.

"I'm seven!" Ari said with a pout.

Keith groaned, "What do you wan,t Ari?"

“Hawaiian pizza,” Ari said quickly zooming out of the room. “No pepperoni!”

“I guess he inherited Lance’s horrible taste on pizza,” Keith commented, grabbing the cord, the phone falling onto his head. He cursed. “Who even puts fruits on pizza? Blasphemy.”

 

.

.

.

 

“While we wait for that pizza, what do you want to watch?” Keith asked as he rubbed the sore spots on his body.

 

Without missing a beat, Ari replied, “Voltron.”

 

“Alright,” Keith said, moving to the television. He grabbed the remote, surfing through different shows. “What channel?”

 

“…Netflix?”

 

Keith gave him a wry grin, “I don’t have a Netflix account.”

 

Ari looked at him with horrified eyes. “¿No tienes Netflix?” _You don’t have Netflix?_

 

“Um…Si?”

 

Ari covered his eyes, sinking slowly onto the floor and then let out a depressing moan. “¿COMO SE SUPONE QUE VAMOS A VER VOLTRON? PECADOR!” _How are we supposed to watch Voltron? SinnerHeathen!_

 

“I’m really sorry,” he sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ll go to some random kid’s channel, alright?”

 

“Eh?” Ari said, “Yo no soy un bebe.” _I’m not a baby._

 

“Do you have some kind of switch or something to make you speak English? Ingles? Comprende? Do you have built in instruction manual in you?”

 

“Sere pequeño pero no soy un juguete, idiota.” _I may be small, but I’m not a toy, idiot._

 

“Did you call me an idiot?” Keith asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Te dije elefante,” Ari said flatly. _I called you an elephant._

 

“This is going to be a long weekend,” Keith said, and then settled on a relatively child friendly show. Keith kind of liked it back when he was younger. It was easy enough to understand and he liked the colours (that was before he discovered MCR and eyeliner)

 

“It’s not Voltron, but there’s the colours,” Keith said, gesturing to the television screen. “Teletubbies.”

 

“¿Quieres traumarme?” Ari looked at him with a petrified face, looking like his soul just left his small body. _Are you trying to traumatise me?_ “Yo solo miro Voltron, ¿que onda contigo?” _This isn’t Voltron, what is wrong with you?_

 

“Everyone likes Teletubbies,” Keith said with crossed arms, frowning. “I still don’t understand you.”

 

Ari turned the television off when the theme song began, just before the baby sun started peeking out. “No lo tienes que hacer. Ademas, creo que te pareces como el rojo.” _You don’t have to, also I think you look like the red one._

 

“Rojo…that’s red, right?” Keith muttered, “Yeah, Po is my favourite, which doesn’t really make sense since they all act the same way.”

 

“Po,” Ari repeated, looking vaguely disgusted. “Pensé que mi papá quería que nos llevaramos bien, pero ahorita te quiero golpear con la sartén.” _I thought my dad wanted me to get along with you, but right now I really want to hit you with a frying pan._

 

“Got a problem?” Keith asked.

 

“Tal vez necesitas arreglar tus lentes.” _I think you need to get your glasses corrected._

 

Keith grabbed his glasses automatically, feeling offended for a some reason.

 

Ari shook his head and went to his room. He returned after a moment, dropping a chessboard in front of Keith’s feet.

 

“Juguemos ajedrez,” Ari stated. _Let’s play chess._

 

“What?”

 

“Mira! Miraloooo!” Ari said pointing his finger down.

 

“Chess?”

 

“Si! Chess!” Ari exclaimed, “¡Vamos!”

 

“Okay,” Keith said with a smirk. “Don’t think I’m going to go easy on you.”

 

Ari blinked.

 

.

.

.

 

“Checkmate,” Ari said.

 

Keith gawked at him, hunching his back to look at the board. Ari had gotten his king surrounded. _What the fu—_

 

 _“_ Keith,” Ari said impatiently, eyes narrowed in annoyance.

 

“Wait… I’m thinking.”

 

“Eres un tonto,” Ari commented under his breath.

 

“Hey, I know that word!” Lance often called him that, mostly in an endearing way. _Mostly_.

 

“Bueno,” Ari said sarcastically.

 

Keith moved his king.

 

“No,” Ari shook his head. “Movimiento equivocado.”

 

“What?”

 

“Eres estúpido.”

 

“I still don’t—Wait. Estúpido?”

 

Ari groaned, he moved his bishop, and ate his king. He started muttering more Spanish.

 

Keith was pretty sure that wasn’t in the rules, but he doesn’t want to face the wrath of a mini-Lance who was stomping away from him.

 

.

.

.

 

Keith piled the dishes into the sink and then place the half-empty pizza box in the fridge. He leaned against the door, banging the back of his head.

 

“Fuck my life,” Keith said to no one.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” said a small voice.

 

Keith whipped his head to Ari. “Oh, _Shit_! Ari don’t say that.”

 

“Shit.”

 

“Gah! Doesn’t your dad keep a swear jar around here?”

 

“Mi padre no está aqui,” Ari said. _My dad is not here._ “No me digas qué hacer.” _Don’t tell me what to do._

 

“Fine. Go swear, I don’t give shi—care. A care, I mean.”

 

“Yo hablando mal es inevitable,” Ari said with a grin. “Solo hago esto porque recibo dinero.”

 

From all that, Keith’s mind just wandered to Robert De Niro and Italian accents.

 

He banged his head once more.

 

.

.

.

 

“Podría quemar tu depa, pero como vivimos en el mismo edificio…no lo haré.” _I could burn your apartment down, but we live in the same building.... so I won't do it_

 

Keith turned away from his book. “What?”

 

Ari waved flippantly. “Solo un aviso.” _Just a warning._

 

.

 

Later, Keith found Ari watching the news intently. His face a mixture of anger and confusion. Keith laughed morosely, yeah, he directed that face to Keith multiple times.

 

“The news? You’re pretty mature,” Keith said, “You don’t really need that boring stuff. I mean you should go play outside. Be with other kids. Have fun.”

 

Ari turned his head slowly, something straight out of The Exorcist, his lips in a straight line. His mouth opened and then said:

 

“Las historias pueden hacer que cualquier cosa suene bonito si usas las palabras correctas. Este mundo está mal, muchas cosas malas. Aquellos que quieren liderar son estigmatizados. Y si les dan tiempo para reflejar, entonces el gobierno o los adultos nos dicen que estamos eligiendo el camino incorrecto. Ellos nos dicen que debemos tomar el camino que el resto está tomando. Eso es un problema serio.

 

“Los adultos están desesperados por convencernos de que la vida es diferente a como la vemos los niños. Eso no es verdad. Yo creo que los niños tenemos un idea más segura, es blanco y negro. Niños no necesitan una tesis para entender la complejidad de la vida porque solo vemos en términos pequeños, y eso es la mas grande descripción de la vida. Aparte la desesperación de los adultos nos irrita.

 

“Creo que debemos ser los que tenemos que convencerlos con una anti-tesis hacia la parte menor de la población, preferiblemente a niños menores de diez años. Es como una especie de contradicción en las normas sociales de la vida¿Sabes sobre revolución? Tengo que leer más sobre eso. No necesitas saber si estoy bien o mal. Yo se que soy inteligente pero eso no importa, ¿o sí? Ademas de todo, solo tengo siete años”

 

Keith blinked and then switched the channel to another show. The Backyardigans started singing a song about pirates and treasure.

 

Ari threw a toy spaceship to his face.

 

.

 

Dinner was something.

 

Keith read the note on the fridge as he chopped the onions. He sniffled, trying to resist himself from crying.

 

“Keith, estás llorando?” _Are you crying?_

 

“Am I crying?” Keith asked, wiping his nose with a sleeve. Ari nodded slowly.

 

“Yeah. Believe it or not, I actually have emotions,” he deadpanned, tears leaking out his eyes. “Onions have families.”

 

Ari let out a small giggle.

 

Keith smiled.

 

.

.

.

 

Ari lifted a spoon to his lips, gingerly sipping the soup. He clicked his tongue and looked up to Keith’s expectant and hopeful eyes. Ari smiled softly.

 

“Esto sabe a pipi de gato.” _This tastes like cat pee._

 

Keith pondered on the statement, and then shrugged, “Gracias.”

 

“No fue un complemento, tonto.” _That wasn’t a compliment, dummy._ He took another sip, and then grimaced. “Me pareces decente. Aun no me mataste so eso es algo.” _I think you’re decent. You haven’t killed me yet so that is something._

 

_._

_._

_._

 

Keith tucked Ari in after having a struggle of putting him in his pyjamas. It was a Buzz Lightyear pattern and Keith honestly thought Ari had an obsession with anything space related.

 

Ari yawned loudly, making grabby at hands to a stuffed blue lion. Keith handed it to him. “Keiiiiith, cuando va a llegar mi papaaaaaa.” _When is papa coming home?_

 

 _“_ I still don’t understand,” Keith muttered.

 

Ari scoffed. “Tonto.”

 

“Brat,” Keith replied tiredly. He placed his hand on Ari’s head ruffling. Realising the unconscious action, they both froze.

 

“¿Que está haciendo?” Ari whispered quietly.

 

“N-nothing,” he recoiled, hand shooting away as if he was electrocuted. “G’night.”

 

Ari dove under the covers. Keith turned the lamp on and left the room quietly.

 

.

.

.

 

Keith dumped his body on the sofa, sinking into the soft cushions. He closed his eyes, recounting the events of the day. The TV was playing some infomercial about health insurance.

 

“Fuckin’ hell. I don’t know how Lance does it,” Keith mumbled. “How do I do this…how do I stop him from hating me?”

 

Keith blew the bangs off his face. “How do I stop Lance from hating me?”

 

He slipped into darkness, thinking about the ocean.

 

.

.

.

 

**Day 2**

 

Ari was in the living room, strumming his ukulele. He Frustratingly sigheds every time he struck a wrong chord. His little fingers were taped with bandages, blunt nails were jagged, and tiny cuts over the tips.

 

Keith entered the room, texting Shiro on his phone.

 

**Takashit**

Is he ignoring you?

 

**KeithKoGayne**

Yes since this morning.

 

**Takashit**

Did you do something?

 

**KeithKogayne**

Why do you always assume that?

 

**KeithKogayne**

Maybe.

 

**Takashit**

Keith…

 

**KeithKogayne**

Fine! He hid my phone in the space between the toilet and the wall, so I cut him off from his stupid show

 

**KeithKogayne**

I HAVE a REaSon

 

**Takashit**

If the kid hates you, now is the time to do some nice stuff.

 

**KeithKogayne**

As if you had any experience. You’re not even married, you old fart.

 

**Takashit**

Are you serious? I practically raised you! You’re a wild child. I had to do that Pugs not drugs saying to you.

 

**KeithKogayne**

Name one thing I’ve done.

 

**Takashit**

DO YOU WANT A LIST?

 

**KeithKogayne**

Nvm. Just help me, dad.

 

**Takashit**

what is nvm?

and try helping with something…what’s he doing?

 

**KeithKogayne**

you are such a dad.

He’s playing a ukulele in a very angry fashion.

 

**Takashit**

  1. Reminds me of someone.



you can play guitar right? go do that.

What is NVM?

 

**KeithKogayne**

Ok. ttyl dad.

 

**Takashit**

What is ttyl?

 

**KeithKogayne**

Dunno. Lance sends that when he texts me goodbye.

 

**Takashit**

;)

 

**KeithKogayne**

disowned.

 

Keith shut his phone off, shoving into his pocket. He crept closer to the boy, sitting in front.

 

“¿Que quieres?” Ari asked with a bored face.

 

“Do you need help?”

 

“Vete.” _go away._

 

“I used to be in a band…for a while.”

 

“¿Te he preguntado?” Ari asked _Did I ask you?_

 

“If you have hard time about this…you could always ask me. I’m pretty good, I think.”

 

Ari narrowed his, pursing his lips. He closed his eyes, heaved a huge breath, and the exhaled.

 

“Okay.”

 

.

.

.

 

Keith strummed the chords, feel the strings undress the tips of his fingers. He remember clipping the skin on them, trying to harden the callouses. The soft melody bouncing off the walls of the modest apartment. Ari observed the way his hands moved. Keith hummed the tune as he plucked the strings.

 

“So you got that?”

 

Ari nodded.

 

“You make sure you don’t mess up this part, but everything else can be improvised. The music would still remain, but I guess the feeling would be a bit different.”

 

“¿Cómo lo haces?” Ari asked, wiggling his fingers. _How do you do it?_

 

Keith gave him a half-smirk, and strummed the ukulele. “The way you hear the music and then you know. You unconsciously just play what feels right and in a way…you can convey your feelings, you try to make the people hear you.”

 

“…oh.”

 

“Yeah. I like the [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x47NYUbtYb0&feature=youtu.be) you chose, Ari,” Keith said, handing him the instrument. He gave him a vapid looking smile, a small quirk of the lips. “It’s really beautiful.”

 

“Sí,” Ari said, playing the tune. “Esta canción es especial para mí.” _This song is special to me._

 

“Special? Yeah…I get you,” Keith said quietly. “I think people like us find it special.”

 

“Eh?” Ari said. His eyes widened. “¿Qué quieres decir?”

 

“I don’t want to be blunt, but we’re sorta similar.”

 

“Mi papá dijo que te pareces mucho a mi.” _My papa said you are a lot like me._

 

“I never knew my parents.”

 

“¿Tú también eres huérfano?” Ari swallowed his words, he gestured to the both of them. “Orphan?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Lo siento.”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

“Mi papá es como un burrito. Tiene las habilidades de Mamá y Papá en un solo lugar.” _My dad is a burrito. He has all the mama and papa stuff in one wrap._

 

 _“…_ Burrito?”

 

Ari groaned. “You know I’m getting tired of you not understanding me.”

 

“You can speak English? Like fluently?”

 

“Of course I can, didn’t I talk to you in English before?” Ari rolled his eyes. “I can speak three different languages, but I’m trying to learn more Russian! Astronauts need to be fluent at it, you know?”

 

“Yeah, I do know,” Keith said, still in awe, and then slowly turned to anger. “Wait! You can speak English! Then what’s with this Spanish bullshit?”

 

“¿Por qué estoy hablando Español? Esto se está saliendo de control, creo que es porque cada vez que veo tu cara quiero gritarte _‘Pendejo!’_ y tú no sabrías,” Ari laughed mockingly, “El hábito!”

 

“Wait! Stay here,” Ari ran into his room.

 

Keith sat on the floor with a dumbfounded expression.

 

Ari returned with a map, and a red marker.

 

“Look here! Mira, Miraloooo!” Ari said, pointing at a particular spot. He then encircled with the red marker. “I want you to take me here. ¿Podemos ir para allá?” _Can we go here?_

 

Keith stared at the small circle, and looked up with a serious expression. “Ari, that’s almost a two day trip!”

 

“Por favor,” Ari said, tapping at the spot. “Por favor, déjame ir allá. Take me here.”

 

“I can’t.”

 

Ari ran back into his room, and smacked an envelope to his face.

 

“Can you stop throwing things to my face!?”

 

“That is money. Six hundred and fifteen dollars. That’s yours if you take me there,” Ari said.

 

“What the fu—How do you have that kind of money?”

 

“A mi papa le da miedo ir—” Ari stopped his words, and backtracked. “Papa doesn’t take me there. He is too scared. I only went there with my grandparents, but only twice.”

 

“I can’t, okay? Your dad…is going to kill me! I promised him I would keep you safe. Listen, Ari, I am a _fucked up_ person. I don’t deserve your dad. I’m trying to be better for him, and I’m trying to make him better too. He has done so much for me. He deserves to be happy. I can’t take you there. Okay? No puedo! Okay? No puedo.”

 

Ari looked at him with dangerous look on his face, a low grumble in his throat.

 

“Ari—“

 

and then a small fist his nose. Hard.

 

“Fuck! Hey, stop—“

 

“Creo que mi papá aún te quiere mucho!” _I think my dad still loves you a lot!_

 

_Punch!_

 

“¿Por qué lo dejaste ir? Yo nunca lo dejaria ir! Por eso es que no me gustas tanto!” _Why did you let him go? I would have never let him go! That’s why i don’t like you that much!_

 

_Punch!_

 

“¿Como pudiste hacer eso!?” _How could you have done that!?_

 

_Punch!_

 

“Si de verdad no lo sientes, no le hables lindo por obligación, Lo confundes!” _If you don’t really mean it,don’t speak to him nicely out of obligation, you’re making him confused!_

 

Keith grabbed his fist, “STOP HITTING ME!”

 

Ari growled, baring his teeth like a feral animal. **_“¡Vámonoooos!”_ **

 

“Ari! Shut up!”

 

Ari struggled against his hold. He clenched his jaw, staring at him with cold eyes.

 

“Delilah. Mike. Delilah. Mike. **_DelilahMikeDelilahMikeDelilahMikeDe_ ** —“

 

“SHUT UP!” Keith yelled, and then hissed, “Stop saying those names.”

 

“ **_DelilahMikeDelilahMikeDelilahMikeDe_ ** —“

 

“Fine! We’re going. Fucking hell.”

 

Ari had unshed tears, his face red. “Papa never talks about it. It hurts him…but I can’t help it.”

 

Keith stayed silent.

 

“I need to know.”

 

.

.

.

 

So.

 

Keith was going to middle of butt-fuck nowhere with an annoying, smart-ass Cuban kid. He had to borrow Shiro’s car since he’s pretty sure Ari would have fell off his motorcycle. He’d spare the both of them from any close contact.

 

Ari played with the straps of his backpack, ignoring Keith’s quick glances.

 

“Can you tell me why we’re going there?”

 

“It’s important.”

 

Keith groaned. “I think I need a little more of that.”

 

“You never met your mom, right?” Ari asked suddenly.

 

“I’ve met her when I was younger. She left me to a relative,” Keith said, wondering why he’s telling a child about his pathetic past. Perhaps it was the orphan connection they had. “I never knew her. I never wanted to either.”

 

“Ah…That’s the difference between us,” Ari said with a pained smile. “My papa says we are too similar. I hate that.”

 

“Hey.”

 

“I always dreamed of meeting my parents,” Ari said distantly, looking out the window. “People tell they were wonderful people. People you met once in your life. I was lucky to have parents like that, but perhaps not lucky enough to keep them.”

 

“Ari, are you okay?”

 

“Whenever I was mad at Papa, I would always think ‘I wish I had my parents.’ They would have never been like this. They would treat me differently. I wish so much to have a mother. I used to ask Papa for a mom, and he would be so sad. I would think ‘Papa is so selfish!’ only wanting to keep me for himself. My classmate Sam has two moms. I was always jealous. How come he has two moms? I can’t even get one!

 

“but afterwards, I would feel so horrible. How could I say that? Papa has sacrificed so much for me. He has sacrificed his sleep, his work, and his energy for me. He could have dropped me to an orphanage or to someone else, but he chose to keep me.

 

“I’ve dreamt of my parents. I’ve seen home videos and pictures. They are really wonderful. I wanted to have them in my life. I wanted them to raise me. Be there for my first day in school, my first game, or maybe when I graduate college and become an astronaut….but then, I think about Papa. What if my parents never died? Papa wouldn’t be my papa. He would be my silly tio. I can’t imagine that. A life without Papa. A life that I would never see him everyday, or wake up next to him. A life where I do not see him make me breakfast or take care of me when I am sick. A life where he cradles me and kiss me and sing me songs when there is a thunderstorm outside.

 

“There would be a life where I would never see Uncle Hunk, Auntie Shay, or Pidge. I wouldn’t be friends with Al and his parents.”

 

“I am Papa’s stability after you left him. I kept him alive. If I wasn't there for him…I do not like to think about what would happen. I know Papa is sick and he gets…weird. If my parents would be alive, Papa would still be sad. He is the saddest person I know, but he is the strongest. Not all heroes wear a red cape,” Ari laughed sardonically, “but can you tell me a hero who has ever been happy?”

 

He thought of Shiro.

 

No exceptions, huh.

 

“I…don’t know,” Keith muttered.

 

“Papa had tried to save you, but you broke him… don’t you ever tell me that I have no reason to hate you. You are a villain, Keith.”

 

**_I am a villain._ **

 

“Ari…you don’t understand. I left your dad because I was bad for him. He would have been worse if I stayed with him. He would have been more broken if we were still together,” Keith explained, his knuckles clenched.

 

“I know you are a good person, Keith,” Ari said, looking at him. “I can see it. You love Papa and Papa loves you, but I won’t forgive you until Papa does. I do not know when. Please remember that I am still in first grade…actually I might skip a few grades next year.”

 

“You are a lot smarter than you look,” Keith said wryly.

 

“I know. My dad was a really smart guy! Maybe that’s why Mama liked him so much,” Ari said. “Oh! I also kinda look like him, but obviously I’m more good looking. I have a picture, I think it was around that time he got job thingy. He looks kinda funny here!”

 

Keith laughed, parking the car. “Alright, let me see.”

 

Ari handed him the photo and his laughter died.

 

.

.

.

 

_Keith stacked the cans of tomato soup on the shelf. He rubbed his eyes, trying to keep the sleep away. He heard a sudden crash to his left._

 

_“Oh, Crap!”_

 

_Keith walked into the direction of the noise. He spotted a young man, a bit older than himself, floundering around the mess of chocolate bars on the floor._

 

_“Sir?”_

 

_He turned around nervously. A pair of round glasses slipping off the bridge of his nose. “Oh, hey! Um…yeah.”_

 

_Keith gave him an unamused look. “Do you need help?”_

 

_“Yes, please,” the guy said quickly, grabbing all the packets into his basket. Keith helped him, putting away the excess into the shelf._

 

_After everything, the man stood up, dusting his clothes. Keith noticed him wearing a suit._

 

_“What’s a fancy guy like you doing in this shitty convenience store?”_

 

_“Oh…I’m drunk!”_

 

_Keith deadpanned. “Where’re your friends?”_

 

_“I dunno. Uhhh, they told me to pick up some chocolates stuff. I drank shots!”_

 

_“Vodka?”_

 

_“Hell yeeeeeaaaaaah!” the guy yelled._

 

_Keith quickly smacked his hand on his mouth. “Would you be quiet?” Keith hissed._

 

_“You sound like my wife!” Glasses said, laughing hysterically, and then started pouting. “I miss my wifeeeeeey. She’s so cute and pretty!”_

 

_“I’m sure she is.”_

 

_“Like DAMN! You know what I mean?” he said, and saw a gaggle of girls. Oh, they were the drag queens from the club in the next street. “AM I RIGHT, BITCHES!?”_

 

_“Yeah!” they yelled back, “You go baby boy! Show your woman some lovin’.”_

 

_Glasses jumped with a fist pump. “She’s so hot, man. You’d understand if you’ve seen her!”_

 

_“I’m gay,” Keith said flatly._

 

_“Oh…she has a brother! Like…I think he’s kinda hot too? I’m straight, but not blind…when I wear my glasses,” Glasses said, doing wild gestures. “BUT DUDE, they kinda look alike. He likes guys too!”_

 

_“I’m not looking for a relationship right now,” Keith said tiredly, looking away. “I just broke up with my boyfriend.”_

 

_“Oh, that sucks,” Glasses said. “I mean…not in a sexy way.”_

 

_Keith sniffed the air, and recoiled. “Are you high?”_

 

_“Maybeeee,” Glasses drawled, and the made a shushing noise. “Don’t tell my wifeeeey. She’s going to hit me with a baseball bat if she found out!”_

 

_“Well, I guess you’re not going home any sooner,” Keith said dryly._

 

_“I know!”_

 

_“Why are you drunk anyways?” Keith said. He felt curious. He kinda found Asian Harry Potter entertaining._

 

_“Best day of my life! Sorta? Soooo I got a promotion and my buddies wanted to celebrate!” he explained, dropping to the dirty floor, hugging his knees. “So before I went out, my wife was all mysterious and shit. She kept going into the bathroom and then she called me and stuff. She was wearing pretty underwear, so I was like oh she wants to make out. Okay, coooool. Then she was all smiley and stuff. She’s really pretty when she does that. Then she threw something at my shirt, and it was a stick! I was like ‘Um, Lila, what the fuuuuuck, I thought you want to like…get it on?’ BUT I didn’t really say that because my wife would get the bat and hit me with it! Then I grab the stick and HOLY SHIT! She’s pregnant! I’m going to be a dad, mullet-dude.”_

 

_“It’s not a mullet,” Keith said sharply._

 

_“And then wow! I was really happy and excited. We were always trying to get a baby. There were some really sad times because we’d think ‘we are getting a kid’ but then we don’t? So sad. My wife—God, I love saying that!—and I thought, we’d just do it naturally. It would come eventually. Then it did! Today! I WAS LIKE WOW. I want a son, you know? Lila wants a boy too, but a girl is okay, I guess.”_

 

_Keith couldn’t help the smile overtaking his face, “Congratulations.”_

 

_“I’m so lucky that I don’t shoot blanks.”_

 

_Keith scrunched his nose. “Okay. Too much information.”_

 

_“Oh, fuck. Now I have to think of names! Lila doesn’t want to know the kid’s gender cause surprise stuff. I don’t know. It was cute! Got any ideas, Mullet-man?”_

 

_“It’s not a mullet,” Keith said once again. He dropped next to Glasses. “I’m not good with names.”_

 

_“Help a brother out! I knocked up my wife. That’s an achievement!”_

 

_“Ummm…Mildred?”_

 

_“What? That’s a girls name.”_

 

_“Diana?”_

 

_“Why are you giving me girl names? GENDER NEUTRAL, DUDE.”_

 

 _“Ariel?” Keith said. Glasses gave him a_ l _ook. “…Ari?”_

 

_“Ari…” Glasses repeated, testing the sound on his tongue. “YEAH! That’s sounds pretty good.”_

 

_“Thank you?”_

 

_“Mullet-man, you literally named my firstborn,” Glasses shook his hand.“We had like…”_

 

_“A bonding moment,” Keith said._

 

_“Yeah, a bonding moment!” Glasses laughed, clapping his hands like an overzealous seal. “You are so cool, Mullet-man! I hope we meet again.”_

 

_“I doubt it. You’re high.”_

 

_“Nooooo! We will meet again. Someday soon. I’m going to introduce Ari to you. I’ll be like ‘Ari, this Mullet-man named you!’.”_

 

_“That’s not necessary,” Keith said, shaking his head._

 

_“Nope! And then, I’m going to introduce you to my brother-in-law! He’s kinda eccentric, but like a really good guy.”_

 

_Keith sighed, “I can’t exactly get over my ex. He was…my everything for awhile. I never told him things.”_

 

_“Oh…that blows, like not in—“_

 

_“Yes…not in a sexy way,” Keith chuckled. “I have things that I regret deeply.”_

 

_“Like what, Mullet-man?”_

 

_“I wish I could have been better for him.”_

 

_“Hmmm, you know…I think you could be better for him. If you try that is… it’s not impossible.”_

 

_“Glasses, I fucked up a lot.”_

 

_“The more you think about it, saying stuff like ‘oooh I wish I was better!’” Glasses said. “You’d know it’s possible. And if you love him that much, then you can be so much better!”_

 

_Keith blinked owlishly, and then said, “…Maybe in the future, if I see him again, I would try.”_

 

_“Do you want to be with him?”_

 

_“Yes.”_

 

_“Do you want to be with him forever?”_

 

_“…Yes.”_

 

_“Why?”_

 

_Keith was silent for a minute. Glasses waited patiently._

 

_“I love him. That’s why.”_

 

_“Does he knooooooooow?”_

 

_“Nope,” Keith said, rubbing the back of his neck._

 

_“Hm, you’re kinda screwed.”_

 

_“Thanks.”_

 

_“BUUUUT. Actions speak louder than words!”_

 

_Keith shook his head, and gave him a smirk. “You’re right.”_

 

_Glasses’s phone started ringing. He put the phone on speaker._

 

**_“MIKE. WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?”_ **

 

_They both winced. “Hi…babe.”_

 

**_“ANSWER ME, ASSHOLE.”_ **

 

_“Uhh, Mullet-man, where am I?”_

 

_“In a mini-mart in seventy-two street. Right next to a shady gay bar…The Worm Hole,” said Keith helpfully._

 

_“Um…heard that, hon?”_

 

**_“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING THERE? MIKE! YOU ARE SO DEAD. I AM SENDING MY BROTHER TO GET YOU! I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS, YOU IDIOT!”_ **

 

_“But I am YOUR idiot.”_

 

**_“And you’re high!? Oh, you are so sleeping on the couch. Get home, you dick.”_ **

 

**_*beep* *beep*_ **

 

_“Oh…so that happened,” Glasses—Mike said awkwardly._

 

_“Damn.”_

 

_“That’s the wife!” Mike chuckled, “Hey, since my brother-in-law is coming…I think I can be your wingman.”_

 

_Keith shook his head, “Nah. I’m taking your advice. I’ll do something about my ex…and my shift is over. I have to get home.”_

 

_“Well, it was nice talking to you, Mullet-man,” he let out his hand._

 

_Keith shook it. “You too, Glasses.”_

 

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE SONG I PLACED IN WAS A JOKE GUYS LOOOOOL.  
> GO ON GUEEEEEESS!
> 
> Translation:  
> The stories can make anything sound nice if you use the right words. This world is so wrong, too much bad. Those who want to lead get stigmatized. If given time to reflect, then the government or perhaps the adults tell us that we are choosing the wrong path. They tell us to take the direction everyone else is taking. I think that is a seriously grave problem.
> 
> The adults are desperate to convince us that the way they see life is so much different than a child’s view. That is not true. I believe that a child’s view is much more accurate, it is as simple as black and white. Kids don’t need a thesis to understand the complexities of life because we only see it through simple terms, and that is the greatest depiction of life there is. However the desperation adults have actually irritates us. I think we have to be the one to convince them with an anti-thesis through minor population, most preferably children under ten years of age. It is sort of like that, to be different and contradict the social norms depiction on life. Do you know revolution? I have to read more on that. You don’t need to know if i am right or wrong. I know i am smart, but that doesn’t matter, does it? After all i am only seven years old.
> 
>  
> 
> Leave kudos or some comments! It helps me out a lot :D


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life gets refreshing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that is the dumbest summary I have ever made LOL
> 
> also, some shit happened in life, so i couldnt update this sooner.
> 
> this is guys! The end of the Keith POV. I actually enjoyed writing this after sometime LMAOOOO. 
> 
> Maybe next time we get more on how that Mullet thinks. ;>
> 
> I hope you notice some key words because i put some little context to know the timeline ;)
> 
> I would like to thank my wonderful and beautiful editor and BETA pal: galaxy-gayrrison
> 
> Songs i listen:  
> let me love you - DJ snake  
> I'm gonna be (500 miles) - The proclaimers  
> F***in Perfect Lullaby - Pink (cover)

_Keith was in the passenger seat, leaning against Lance’s side, his head tucked in the area between his shoulder and neck. Lance’s arm curled around over his shoulder, lightly holding him  closer to his own body. Keith could smell the familiar salty ocean scent Lance had.  Feeling like he had no time to tame the mess of unruly black locks, Keith had his hair pushed up from an elastic headband,_

 

_Having one hand on the wheel,  Lance had his eyes locked on the road. Keith rubbed his nose on the rough fabric of his jacket, secretly smiling into it._

 

_“Where are we going?” Keith asked quietly, eyes riddled with sleep._

 

_“I don’t know,” Lance answered honestly, rubbing slow on Keith’s ribs. “Anywhere, I guess.”_

 

_“Ride or die,” Keith said jokingly, “but with you on the wheel, I think both options apply.”_

 

_Lance slapped him playfully. Keith fought the grin emerging on his face._

 

_“Hardy har har. Since when were you a jokester?”_

 

_“I’m too exposed to you,” Keith said as he watched Lance maneuver between lanes. It was very late, and so no cars were around. “You’re a bad influence.”_

 

_“I find so much irony in that statement,” Lance muttered under his breath._

 

_“What was that?”_

 

_Lance chuckled. “Nothing, Mami.”_

 

_Keith’s cheeks darkened from the nickname. “God, fucking damn it. I told you to not call me—“_

 

_“Aaaaanyway,” Lance started, slowing down the car. “I know what to do tonight.”_

 

_Keith looked up from Lance’s shoulder and saw large neon pink sign. There were character posters on the windows. The double doors tinted black with an open sign on the front. Some cars  were parked around them, bikes situated next to them on stands. A large video game character was featured by the entrance._

 

_Keith moved his head to face Lance, eyeing him up lazily. “Are you serious?”_

 

_“C’mon! It’s been ages since I’ve been in one.”_

 

_“Lance, only kids come here.”_

 

_“And? We’re kids!”_

 

_“You are eighteen years old.”_

 

_“And you’re nineteen,” Lance countered, sliding out from his seat. “We’re not adult enough for big boring decisions! I say we let loose out inner childhood.”_

 

_“What are you? Twelve?” Keith asked sarcastically. He snuggled closer into Lance’s warmth, not wanting to leave the comfortable space._

 

_“On a scale of one to ten?” Lance said, followed by a quick peck to Keith’s lips, slipping out completely from the car. “Yes.”_

 

_Keith was hanging onto mid-air, staring at the retreating form of his boyfriend. Lance pushed through the doors of the arcade, but before that he waved at Keith to follow him._

 

_Keith grumbled a string of silent curses as he left the car. He trudged inside the building, being immediately assaulted by eighties pop music. He looked around the vicinity. Being an arcade, old school games were scattered around and an air hockey table was located at the center. A very excited looking Lance stood by a bored looking teenager._

 

_Keith crushed the urge of hugging the crap out of Lance for looking so fucking adorable and instead choose to look very embarrassed. He walked towards Lance with crossed arms, trying to maintain a grimace._

 

_Lance whipped his head to face Keith, practically vibrating. “Give me ten dollars.”_

 

_“Do you think I want to hand you money for something stupid like this?” Keith asked incredulously._

 

_Lance shoulders slumped, eyes downcast. “Oh…I…okay, I guess we could—“_

 

_Oh fuck, Keith couldn’t handle that look._

 

_Keith laughed, smirking at the Lance’s confused face. He dug into his pocket, handing him some crumpled dollars. “Go crazy.”_

 

_Lance grinned, and gave him a huge smack on his cheek. He turned towards the teen, who looked thoroughly apathetic. “Here you go!”_

 

_“Thank you, sir,” the teen said sullenly, handing him a handful of coins. “Hope you have fun.”_

 

_“Oh, I will!” Lance ran off to one of the shooting games. Keith could almost see the puff of dust he left on his wake. The boy behind the counter raised a bushy eyebrow, his upper lip quirked to reveal a set of neon colored braces._

 

_“Your boyfriend?” The teen asked, staring pointedly at Lance’s excited figure._

 

_“Yeah,” Keith breathed out. “He is.”_

 

_“He’s cute,” the boy shrugged, leaning against the counter. “Bit too spunky for my taste.”_

 

_“That’s not the only thing that tastes spunky,” Keith said without thinking. When he realized what came out of his stupid mouth, he slapped a hand to cover it._

 

_The teen looked at him mildly grossed out, but with an amused smile in place. “Go show him a good time.”_

 

_Keith nodded bashfully, walking towards Lance who leaning closely to the screen. He had a plastic gun in hand that vaguely reminded him of one of those futuristic blaster types. Lance had one eye closed, his finger rested on the trigger._

 

_Keith opened his mouth and said, “Lance—“_

 

_Lance licked his bottom lip and then fired._

 

_Keith froze, eyes wide._

 

_WHAT WAS THAT?_

 

_Keith knew his boyfriend was attractive. He had: perfectly tanned skin. Freckles dotted around his face and shoulders. Nose was slightly upturned, the slope like a swan’s neck. Hair was bleached white this time, which was glowing with the blue light of the video game screen, splashes of bright colors on his face. His wide grin stretched across his lips. Intense blue eyes that reminded Keith of the ocean, the waves, a freaking tsunami. Lance licked lip once again, doing another round of fire, and Keith felt the heat creeping into his neck, resting on his cheeks._

 

_Times like this, Keith should really thank the gods for giving him a really fucking good-looking boyfriend._

 

_“HELL YEAH!” Lance jumped up into the air, his arm raised to a fist pump. “High score, baby!”_

 

_Keith shook his head, and slapped his cheeks. Get it together, Kogane._

 

_“Babe! Did you see that? I totally wrecked that boss,” Lance said with a bright eyes, pointing at the screen. There was a defeated boss lying on what appeared to be a virtual space ship. “That’s right, the Sharpshooter strikes again!”_

 

_Keith grabbed the back of Lance collar, dragging him to a different game. “C’mon, Sharpshooter. Let’s do something else.”_

 

_Lance laughed, and said in a mocking tone, “Aww, is Keith trying to compensate? Get up to my level, honey!”_

 

_Keith threw him a plain look._

 

_“Oh, don’t be like that!”  Lance said, and then patted his cheek. Keith slapped it away, dragging him to another game._

 

_Keith forced Lance into a stool and sat by the one next to it._

 

_Lance blinked, and gave him a mischievous smirk. “Tekken?”_

 

_“If I’m going to have fun,” Keith said, selecting through the characters. “It’s going to be me beating your ass.”_

 

_Lance smiled wider, a wild look in his face. “Oh, you are so on, Mullet.”_

 

_Keith glanced at him sharply, the corner of his lip turned up slightly. “Bring it, cargo pilot.”_

 

_Lance rolled his eyes playfully and selected Arisa._

 

_“You picked a girl,” Keith said._

 

_“Am I not allowed to?” Lance said pointedly, an eyebrow raised. “She’s the best one. Hello? Cute, fairy android who has machine guns for body parts. It can’t get any more badass than that.”_

 

_Keith snorted. “Suit yourself.”_

 

_Lance glanced at Keith side of the game, and snorted. “Really? Jin Kazama?”_

 

_“What’s wrong with him?” Keith asked._

 

_“Oh nothing, he’s cool,” Lance said flippantly, “It’s just…you are so predictable.”_

 

_“Predictable!?”_

 

_Lance’s relaxed expression remained. He flicked Keith’s forehead. “You’d pick the character that looks like you.”_

 

_“What! Is it because I’m asian!?” Keith said, feeling very offended._

 

_“Partly. He just acts a lot like you. Angry, permanent scowl, really buff, and very much broody,” Lance explained, and then added wolfishly. “And He gets to fuck a Latina~”_

 

_“That movie was horrible,” Keith commented, giving him a wry look. “I don’t think the actress was remotely Brazilian.”_

 

_Lance pressed enter. The fight countdown starting. “Hm, at least we have something to agree on.”_

_The fight commenced. The both of them smashing random buttons and aggressively moving their joy_

_sticks left and right._

 

_“Wait, that’s a dirty move!” Lance yelled as Keith repeated threw special attacks. “I’m not even moving!”_

 

_“How is that a dirty move?” Keith said, still punching in the same moves. “I’m just doing what seems effective.”_

 

_“Effective my ass!” Lance said, pressing for block defense. “You are literally mashing the same buttons! Boo, have some variety.”_

 

_Keith rolled his eyes. He punched Lance’s character and returned to his special moves combo. “There.”_

 

**PLAYER 1 WINS**

 

_“No way!” Lance shrieked, “That is so unfaaaaair.”_

 

_“You say that every time I win something,” Keith said, smirking at him. “You lost, McClain.”_

 

_“You sound like my basketball team,” Lance said dryly. “Just you wait, Mullet! Steven Spielberg is going to call me and cast me as the dashing hero of his movie.”_

 

_“Steven Spielberg wouldn’t call you,” Keith said._

 

_“Why do you have to one up me all the time?” Lance said, pouting. “You’re so perfect! It’s annoying.”_

 

_“I’m not perfect, Lance,” Keith said softly, “No one is.”_

 

_Lance blinked, and then looked away. “Hey. I wanna try that ‘Test you strength’ punching bag game.”_

 

_Keith raised an eyebrow. “You really wanna do that?”_

 

_“What? Are you scared that I might be stronger than you?” Lance said mockingly. He fluttered his long eyelashes. “C’mon, impress me, Mullet.”_

 

 _Keith rolled his eyes and then they both walked over to the game. In big yellow blocky letters, it read ‘_ **_Box Club!’_ ** _._

 

_Lance lifted the sleeve of his jacket, and kissed his forearm. “See these pipes? Yeah, it’s ya boiiii!”_

 

_Keith groaned, slapping his hand on his forehead._

 

_“C’mon, you’ve seen my washboard abs, right?” Lance lifted his shirt, and started flexing. “Washboard abs!”_

 

_Keith squashed the idea of touching those holy washboard abs, and said, “Are you going to do it, or not?”_

 

_Lance cracked his knuckles and then motioned Keith to move away. He strained his arm and then punched the bag. The machine emitted a large beeping sound, numbers shooting up to hundreds._

 

**_856_ **

 

_“Beat that, Mullet Boy!” Lance said, shaking Keith’s frame. Keith let out a breathy sigh, crossing his arms together._

 

_“Hm, I could do better,” Keith said in a matter-of-way. “It’s not like it’s hard.”_

 

_“Oh? Then do it,” Lance said, gesturing the machine. “Go on. I’m not going to wait a year. You can do it, Hot Stuff.”_

 

_“Quit it with the nicknames,” Keith grumbled. He positioned himself. His fist clenched, arm away from the bag._

 

 _Before he could even land his punch, he felt soft lips against ear. A breathy voice next to it, tickling it. “Fist me harder,_ **_Mami_ ** _.”_

 

_Keith punched the bag, losing balance._

 

**_458_ **

 

_“Jesus, what the fuck, Lance?” Keith said exasperatedly, face on fire. “You threw me off. That’s a dirty move right there.”_

 

_“Nice pun, Mami,” Lance commented with a nod. “I was just saying words of encouragement.”_

 

_“You are…filthy,” Keith said with a deep scowl._

 

_“Fine, fine,” Lance rolled his eyes, placing his hands on Keith’s broad shoulders, moving him in front of the machine. “I won’t say anything, Mullet.”_

 

_Keith sighed through his nose, and prepared his stance once again. He lifted his fist, stared straight at the target. He sucked in a breath and released his first, forcing it hard into the bag._

 

_The numbers shot up and kept going and going and going until it stopped._

 

_He blinked at the red blaring numbers_

 

**_1327_ **

 

_Lance screeched, wrapping his arms around Keith, tackling him into the dirty floor._

 

_“Damn, Mami!” Lance yelled into his ear, swarming his face with wet kisses and soft pecks. “You…Wow! You broke the freaking record!”_

 

_Suddenly the lanky teen with braces said monotonously. “Congratulations, sir. You win a prize, come pick it in the counter.”_

 

_Lance practically lifted Keith in his arms, swooping him from the floor. “Eep! Keith, c’mon! Holy shit.”_

 

_Keith nodded numbly, allowing himself to be dragged away. Lance kept saying compliments, even boasting it to the few people in the arcade._

 

_“Pick one, sir,” said the teen, gesturing lazily at the shelves._

 

_Keith looked around the selections. He side-eyed Lance who was wearing a bright grin and sparkling eyes. He was eyeing a particular toy on the shelf. A red shark._

 

_“That one,” Keith said, pointing at the shark. “The red one.”_

 

_The teen plucked the toy, handing it to Keith._

 

_Keith then handed the toy to Lance who looked at him with an open mouth._

 

_“Keith… This is yours,” Lance said. “You won it, remember?”_

 

_“Yeah, I’m giving it to you,” Keith said, trying to act nonchalant. “I don’t really know where to put it anyway.”_

 

_Lance smiled softly, and then kissed Keith slowly. Keith reciprocated the gesture, placing his hand on the back of his neck playing with the pale locks of hair._

 

_“Thanks, Mami,” Lance whispered, nuzzling his pointy nose against Keith’s. “…I love you, a lot.”_

 

_Keith bit his lip, playing with his ring, staring at Lance with hooded eyes._

 

_I love you too._

 

_Keith gripped the back of Lance’s head, gripping his hair, pushing him to his mouth. He pried it open with his tongue, sliding it into his warm mouth. Lance groaned, fingers clenching at the fabric of Keith’s shirt. Keith continued to kiss him hungrily, taking sharp breaths through his nose._

 

_He pulled out with a obscenely wet pop, “You wanna get out of here?”_

 

_Lance nodded hurriedly. Keith grabbed his hand and bolted out of the doors. Lance laughing booming loudly. He jumped with every step. Keith turned his head, and saw  one of the prettiest sights to see. With Lance, everything is too bright and pretty. It was like seeing the moon in its full phase, shining brightly behind Lance. It matched his white hair, the neon sign of the arcade casting an ethereal blue glow. It looked like a halo as it formed around the wispy pale locks._

 

_“Oh,” Keith breathed out quietly, eyes wide. “I’m in trouble.”_

 

_._

_._

_._

 

**_DAY 2 1/2_ **

 

They were in a gas station. Keith was filling up the car when he noticed Ari wasn’t in his seat. He felt his heart encased in ice, he checked the vicinity frantically. He could feel the anxiety spike in him. Curses flew into his head quickly.

 

His eyes stopped to see the boy on rocket ride. He looked incredibly frustrated with the machine, shaking it harshly.

 

He grunted with each movement. Ari got off the ride, and then grabbed his backpack, digging into its contents.

 

“Hey, Ari what do you have there?” he yelled out to the boy.

 

Ari pulled the item out of his bag and Keith felt all the air fly of his lungs. He pulled out a sharp as hell knife.

 

“What!” Keith shouted, running towards the angry little midget.

 

Ari raised the knife into the metal box, but Keith was fortunately quick enough to clamp his hand around the boy’s wrist.

 

“No!”

 

Ari struggled against his hold, growling at the interruption. “Suéltalo!”

 

Keith suddenly felt a burst of sympathy for Shiro. “Ari, no! You want a ride? I’ll give you goddamn dime.”

 

Ari stopped and then dropped the knife, which landed dangerously next Keith’s foot.

 

Keith let out a tiny screech, and then hastily grabbed the knife from the little psychopath’s reach.

 

Ari climbed onto the rocket again, waiting silently for it to start.

 

Keith rubbed his temples and inserted the coin. The machine started rocking.

 

“Stay put, I’m going to take a piss.”

 

Ari nodded, grabbing the handles.

 

.

.

.

 

“Motherfucker,” Keith said as he stared at the empty rocket ride.

 

He stomped his foot like a petulant child, squeezing his eyes shut. Patience yields focus.

 

He heard a large clatter from inside the convenience store. He looked into the glass panel and saw the small boy on top of an employee chewing on what looked like a pack of Cheesy Jalapeño Cheetos.

 

Keith ran inside the store and saw the mess.

 

Ari turned his head towards him, sporting a pair of aviator shades.

 

“The fuck?” Keith said, staring at the immobile body of an employee.

 

“How?” Keith asked tiredly, leaning against the counter. “And why?”

 

Ari shrugged and pointed at his head. “Intelligence and strategy. Also, I wanted to eat, but no money.”

 

Keith buried his face into his hands, sighing miserably.

 

Afterwards, Keith left twenty dollars on the counter. He may have took a pack of cigarettes with him. He had to quit, actually. But by God, he was going to need one to endure this dumb trip or else he might actually see fat Elvis.

 

He grabbed Ari’s little wrist and hissed, “Not okay!”

 

He dragged him away from the store.

 

“Have a nice day, sir…?” said the slumped employee.

 

.

.

.

 

**DAY 3**

 

The both of them sat quietly in their seats. Ari’s shades in place, bobbing his head. He played with the window, which was sliding up and down. Keith gritted his teeth together. His fists clenching the steering wheel with white knuckles.

 

“Ari, can you stop that?” Keith said, glancing at the boy. “I’m trying to focus on the road.”

 

“I’m bored,” Ari said, and pointed at his sudoku booklet in his lap. “I already finished it.”

 

“Can you do something else?” Keith asked, shaking his head. “Don’t you have an iPhone, or something?”

 

“iPhone?” Ari repeated. “Keith, I’m seven, not twenty seven.”

 

“Don’t most kids have it at this point.”

 

Ari raised an eyebrow. “I’m not most kids. I think the blue light of the screens lessens sleep time and I believe that it is also a way for society to brainwash the children. I don't to be part of that. It is the start of anarchy, you know? The little things are always the biggest trouble.”

"How do you know all about that?"

"Books?" Ari said with a shrug. "

“You’re a conspiracist,” Keith chuckled. “That’s funny.”

 

“Conspiracy? Are you trying to say that I believe in those dumb theories about the world? They do not make sense," Ari said, "I don't believe in those, stupid."

 

“You remind me a lot of myself when I was younger,” Keith said, staring at the road. “I used to read dictionaries to past the time, or read really old english books.”

 

“Were you trying to torture yourself?” Ari said with a frown. “Did you have fun doing that?"

 

“I just enjoyed reading,” Keith said, “I had a hard time to communicate with people since I wasn’t very good at English back then. It was a way for me to learn and yet have fun.”

 

Ari laughed. “I bet you sounded like Emily Brontë when you spoke.”

 

“How do you know her?”

 

“My dad used to read books like that,” Ari said wistfully. “There’s a box of his books in the closet. My grandma has a library filled with books that my dad read.”

 

“Oh,” Keith said with a nod. **You literally named my first-born.**

 

“Yep! I read his books because it’s a way for me to know what he was like,” Ari said, swinging his legs. “I wanted to have some sort of connection to him.”

 

“That’s…really sweet of you to do.”

 

“Nah, I just really wanted to,” Ari said, and then looked out the window, watching trees past by. “I have a harder time understanding Mama. She used to be an art teacher, so she does these really good paintings. I don't know a thing about art stuff besides Picasso cutting his ear off.”

 

“You mean Van Gogh,” Keith commented with a snort. "Yeah, that was crazy,"

 

“He was crazy, but whatever Picassa Picasso, mi casa es su casa.” Ari said with a roll of his eyes. “His paintings remind me a lot of my coloring books, but like fancier and more expensive.”

 

“Do you know other artists?”

 

“Da Vinci and…I really like Rembrandt,” Ari said with a small smile. “Very realistic and detailed! but I’m choosing the really famous ones. I don’t know much about the others. I would love to visit a gallery one day to see other artists, but I’m not very interested about that kind of stuff.”

 

“I could take you there,” Keith said, running his mouth, “with Lance as well.’”

 

“Really?” Ari looked at him, his shades slipping of his face. “I’d like that! I think Papa would like that too!”

 

“Yeah,” Keith said, giving him a half smile. “Someday soon. I’d like to get to know you more.”

 

“You’re a funny guy, Keith,” Ari sneered. “Yeah, I’d like to know you more. After all, you might end up being Papa’s boyfriend again.”

 

Keith choked, suddenly accelerating the car.

 

“Don’t you want to?” Ari said with a raised eyebrow.

 

“I do,” Keith said, licking his lips. “I’m trying to take things slow.”

 

“Eh? Papa already loves you, so you don’t need to do much effort even though you look like a cave man most of the time.”

 

Keith glared at him mildly, “I hope he still loves me after all this.”

 

“What is this?”

 

“This spontaneous trip. We’re going to be in really big trouble if he finds out about this.”

 

Ari smirked, “Don’t worry! I told Uncle Hunk and Pidge to take care of that. They took sometime to convince, but I did it. You see this face? Who could say no to a smiling face?”

 

**Keith, who could say no to a smiling face?**

 

“Yeah, who could ever?” Keith said. “You’re a little devil in the inside.”

 

“I’m not going to deny that,” Ari said, “but I’m not little.”

 

“How tall are you?”

 

“Height doesn’t matter,” Ari said with his tongue out, “and speak for yourself, you look like a garden gnome compared to Papa.”

 

“…Okay, that vaguely hurt.”

 

“Bueno, tonto,” Ari said with a smirk. It greatly reminded him of Lance. “Lo siento.”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

“I packed some aloe vera cream for that burn, do you want it?”

 

Keith gave him a dull look.

 

.

_._

_._

 

_“Oi, Mami!” Lance said, stopping by his table.  “What are you doing here?”_

 

_“It’s raining hard outside,” Keith said as he shook his hair like a wet dog. Lance looked at him unimpressively as the stray water droplets hit face. “I’m kinda hungry too.”_

 

_Lance smirked, crossing his arms, his hip jutted to the side. “Are you sure you’re not using an excuse to see me, sweet-cheeks?”_

 

_“No,” Keith said with a deadpanned expression, the blush creeping on his face saying otherwise. Keith had a thing for guys in uniforms, okay? Especially ones with a white dress shirt tugged haphazardly into tight pants, a fluffy pen peeking out from the pocket. His hair was blue today,matching his ocean blue eyes. Lance wasn’t perfect.  From this proximity, he could see the little imperfections scattered around his face. Freckles were like constellations, wanting to connect the dots on his cheeks. An invisible cut on his chin. His eyes were a bright cerulean blue eyes were flecked with green. They were really pretty up close._

 

_“Suuuuure,” Lance drawled, kissing Keith’s wet cheek. “My milkshakes bring all the boys to the yard, you know?”_

 

_Keith paused, and stared at him confusedly. “I’m lactose intolerant.”_

 

_Lance rolled his eyes, biting the smile playing on his lip. “Seriously? Mami, you’re killing me.”_

 

_“Ah, the dreaded nickname,” Keith said, wanting to slam his face on the table. He hissed into Lance’s ear, pulling his collar.“I told you to not call me that…not in public at least!”_

 

_“Do you want me to call you that in bed exclusively?” Lance said, poking his nose. “My, my, Mamiii…Didn’t know you were possessive.”_

 

_While that may be slightly true, but Keith was never going to admit that._

 

_“I’m not! It’s embarrassing,” Keith said, gripping his own hair._

 

_“You want me to call you ‘Daddy’?” Lance asked with raised eyebrows._

 

_“You have enough nicknames in your list!” Keith said, and then slumped into his seat. “Get me coffee at least.”_

 

_“Sure thing, Mami,” Lance said, pecking his lips. “Black, right?”_

 

_Keith contemplated, his words paused, and then said. “You know what? Put some sugar and cream in it.”_

 

_Lance smiled, and Keith felt his heart palpitate._

 

_Lance gave him one last kiss, which was tender and short, but Keith already missed the contact when he pulled away._

 

_._

_._

_._

 

“You’re lactose intolerant?” Ari said incredulously, mouth wide. “You must live a terrible existence.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes. “I have pills for that.”

 

“I feel bad for you, I truly do,” Ari said morosely, sipping his strawberry milkshake obnoxiously loud. “So gooooood.”

 

“Brat,” Keith said, but chuckled at his behavior. “So, we’re pretty close to that place now.”

 

Ari stayed silent, sipping his drink. “…Yes.”

 

“I still don’t know where we’re going,” Keith said, turning a corner. “I’m driving blindly at this point.”

 

“Stop,” Ari said, shoving the drink into the cup holder.

 

“What?”

 

“We’re here.”

 

Keith blinked, and stopped the car. He parked beside a curb. Ari hitched his backpack and hopped out of the car. Keith undid his seatbelt and hurriedly followed the boy’s retreating figure.

 

Ari stopped by a small vendor. The lady looked at the him with soft eyes and handed him a some flowers. She patted his head, and shook her head. “It’s fine. No need to pay.”

 

Ari looked at her, and smiled with a toothy grin, “¡Gracias por las flores!”

 

“De nada, espero que te gusten,” the woman said, waving goodbye to the boy. “Hope you have nice day, honey!”

 

“Sí!” Ari said, running down the path, his bag was jumping up and down with his movement.

 

Keith jogged towards Ari. The woman gave him a quick smile. He returned it with an awkward grimace.

 

“Ari, slow down!” Keith yelled, keeping his eyes on the small figure running down the slope of a hill. “Hey, you might trip!”

 

“You’re too slow, Keith!” Ari said as he skipped over stones.

 

“Damn it,” Keith muttered under his breath, nearly tripping over a step.

 

As he walked through the forested area, he noticed the skinny trees, leaves falling gracefully down onto the grass. Park benches were placed in different places of the land. The flower bushes neatly trimmed and grasses were cut short.

 

He slowed down his pace, taking in the beautiful scenery. The air felt nice against his skin, breezing through his dark clothing. It smelled faintly  like Jasmine flowers. He took his time, knowing that Ari was just at the end of the path. He suddenly halted, and lifted his shoe, and saw a wilted white flower. It was crushed, dirt on top of its dainty petals.

 

Keith continued his trek. He felt peace in this place. It was quiet. There were no people around or walking by. The benches looked inviting to sit down and maybe take a nap or read a book. The leaves overhead whooshed as the wind blew. Birds flew in the sky, gliding throughout the air. There was no sun that day. The sky was littered with clouds. It was nice.

 

Then Keith looked forward, settling his gaze on the boy sitting on the grass.

 

As he went forward his breath hitched.

 

“—Even though, I’ve never met you…I still miss you a lot. It’s been kinda lonely in all honesty, but! Papa has been there for me and I am so thankful that he is there. I know it’s been hard for him too. He misses you a lot, especially Mama! Sorry Dad, I think it’s cause Papa is a lot closer to Mama. You know, Papa says Mama is like a monster. I don’t really believe it because monsters aren’t real, but I kinda do a bit. Just a bit, Mama! He showed me so many photos of you and you look scary! Ah, but you are so pretty, Mama.

 

“Dad, I think you are very handsome as well! That is why you guys fell in love, right? You guys are plenty beautiful. I know that because I spent a lot of my time learning about you, trying to get closer. It’s a bit hard, but I’m smart! I’m the smartest in class, so I know I can do it. I’m going to be an astronaut when I’m older. Papa is really good at astronomy and space, so he tells me a lot.

 

“Uncle Hunk is teaching me how to build stuff like a telescope and Pidge is making me learn physics! Physics, Mama! It’s amazing, I love it so much. Dad, I also read so much books about space. I know a lot of the different solar systems, planets, moons, and stars and gravity and rockets—Oops! I’m rambling. I do that when I’m really excited about stuff. Papa says it’s a McClain thing, never knowing when to shut up!

 

“I…I really love you guys. I love the idea of you, I guess! But if we ever meet, maybe in like somewhere else, I’d still love you. I want to be an astronaut, or you know… a space explorer. I wanna make my own trail to follow, to go to a different orbit! I really want to meet aliens, isn’t that cool? Aliens exist, I’m not joking. The newest research team came in contact with them, and they want to visit. Hopefully they wouldn’t try to do an invasion. One of the reasons I want to go out in space is to see the stars! Actually, Papa did this thing a few years ago, he bought stars for you and named you after them. So, I want to go see them! Here’s the map, I think, there’s the coordinates. I brought my telescope with me, wait—“

 

“Ari?”

 

Ari whipped his head, and cocked it to the side, “Yes?”

 

“Are you talking to your parents?” Keith asked, sitting next to him, and then leaned on his hands.

 

“Yeah! My mommy and daddy,” Ari said, gesturing to the two headstones. There were colorful flowers on their graves, the ones Ari brought along. “Mama, this is Papa’s boyfriend—er, almost-boyfriend?”

 

“Hello,” Keith said, waving awkwardly. “It’s nice to see you again, Delilah.”

 

“You met Mama already, right?” Ari asked, ducking his head.

 

“Yeah, I did,” Keith answered, fisting the grass. “She was a good person.”

 

Ari nodded, and then moved to the side, “This is my Dad!”

 

Keith read the words engraved, and felt his stomach stir. He eyed at the dates, biting his lip painfully. That was the year they met. He recalled their funny conversation, remembering the way Mike’s glasses slipped from his nose and him always pushing up with his finger.

 

“Hey,” he murmured. “This is…a weird twist of events, Glasses.”

 

Ari kept talking in front of his mother’s grave. His face animated, making wild gestures.

 

“You actually named him ‘Ari’,” Keith laughed, wiping the side of his nose. “That brother-in-law was actually Lance, huh? Small world, don’t you think?”

 

Keith played with the blades of grass, green sticking underneath his nails. “I know we don’t each other, but I think we could have been good friends. Lance told me you told really good advice.”

 

Keith sighed, making a small smile. “He really does look like you. The hair and some distinctive features. I recently saw a photo of you, and it was from the day we met. Your kid is a lot to handle, man. He is a lot like me a lot of people said,, especially Lance. Ari doesn’t seem to like it, thinks its an insult.”

 

He ruffled his hair with his hand. “Glasses, you were a really great guy. I know you are. I know a lot about you and I’m pretty bummed that you don’t know much about me. You never had the chance…We never had the chance.”

 

Keith sucked in a shaky breath, and broke out into a wide smile. “We’ll meet again. Someday soon. Make sure you introduce Ari to me like you promised.”

 

“Hey, Keith,” Ari said as he rummaged through his backpack. He pulled out a telescope. “Can you help set this up?”

 

Keith chuckled, “Sure thing, Brat.”

 

Ari muttered something, most likely a jab about Keith’s hair.

 

As they set up the telescope, Keith looked up into the sky. The sun was setting, casting a warm golden right around the area. He marveled at the beautiful red and orange colors of a sunrise or sunset. They were the evidence that no matter what happens, everyday can end and start beautifully.

 

It was if the gradient colors and intensity of the light was just enough to calm the soul. The sun is like a great big romantic, inspirational flame in the sky. The rays would be slowly dancing like the waltz. Silhouettes of birds flew into unknown directions across a sky that was now pink. The powerful symphony was quieting down, becoming more emotional and beautiful as it died down into the night sky, going into a starry twilight.

 

Its rays seemed friendly. They reminded him of an old friend, waving good bye to you, you know they are leaving but you are filled with the hopeful confidence that you will see them again in another day and maybe another place.

 

Keith’s lips bore the semblance of a smile, feeling the warmth of its rays. His shadow slowly shrinking to his feet, just as the light disappeared. His skin cooling with the breeze.

 

Ari sat back and looked at his worked. He turned to Keith and smiled back at him. It was just enough to show that he is enjoying his thoughts, whatever they may be. Keith moved closer so that he could feel Ari’s presence. He stayed silent allowing him to be lost in the moment a while longer.

 

Sunsets meant a lot of things. But for Keith, sunsets meant the promise of a new day.

 

Keith heard a sniffled to him. He turned to Ari and noticed the small streaks of tears on his cheeks.

Through teary eyes, Ari watched the sun fall behind the horizon. He wiped his nose with the sleeve of his sweater. He looked at Keith with soft eyes, mouth parted slightly. Ari grabbed Keith’s jacket and threw his arms around his chest.

 

“Thank you, Keith,” Ari said, his voice muffled.“All the pain I have suffered. All the hurt I’ve felt. Everything is gone. You granted my wish.”

 

“Do you see those colors?” Keith asked in his most comforting voice he could muster. “Each showing you will see the good tomorrow could bring.”

 

Ari nodded into his chest, and said in a small voice, “Keith.”

 

“What is it, Ari?” He put his hand on Ari’s fluffy head. It felt like a little duckling head. He combed his fingers through the soft tuft of hair.

 

“I think that is not good to suffer alone,” Ari said, looking up into Keith’s dark eyes. “It is better to suffer together, to…know that there is someone who will be there. We are similar, don’t you think?”

 

Keith looked up into the sky. The stars were shining bright in the luminescence. With them and Ari’s arms around him, he did not feel alone. “We are similar, but the circumstances are different. We feel alone without them. Between the two of us, we are now connected to others. They are the family we need, the people we have to treasure.”

 

“That is a nice thought.” He rubbed his nose into Keith’s shirt.

 

“It is,” Keith replied, carding his fingers into the thick locks, “Do you want to find your parents’ stars?”

 

Ari beamed, letting go, “Yes, please!”

 

.

.

.

 

Keith drove home, Ari nestled in the his seat. He had Keith’s jacket draped over his body. He looked smaller than before. His hand gripping loosely on the clothing. His eyes closed, snores soft, and his mouth open. Keith smiled at the sight. It was the look of someone at ease. Someone at peace.

 

As they reached the building, Keith moved to Ari’s side. He grabbed the boy, careful to not wake him. Ari grumbled, but still did not open his eyes. Keith lifted him into his arms. Ari’s arms unconsciously wrapped his arms around Keith’s neck, his head laid on his shoulder. His warm breath against Keith’s neck.

 

.

.

.

 

Keith placed Ari in his bed, tucking him into his blankets. He ruffled his hair.

 

“Night, Brat,” Keith whispered. He got up and left the room, closing the door softly.

 

As he stood in the hallway, stretching his body, arms up in the air. He padded down the hallway, and halted. He stood in front of table with Delilah and Mike’s pictures.

 

As he gazed intently into them, he heard the door open. He looked away from them, and his stomach dropped to see a raging Lance.

 

“Where were you?” Lance said icily. “Do you know what time it is?”

 

Keith shrugged, “Ten?”

 

“It’s three in the morning, douche bag,” Lance said, moving closer. “What the fuck were you doing at three in the morning?”

 

Keith sighed, there was no point of hiding anymore. He promised himself that he would stay honest to Lance. “We were at your sister’s grave.”

 

“What?” Lance said, eyes wide. “Why?”

 

“Ari wanted to see them, okay?” Keith said, “he told me you would never take him there. He practically bribed me to take him there. I didn’t accept the money because he looked at me with that desperate face.”

 

“You could have told me at least!” Lance said, running his hand down his brown hair. “If anything would have happened, I wouldn’t know!”

 

“We’re fine,” Keith said, “nothing bad happened.”

 

Lance sighed, taking breaths. “Okay, just…don’t do that without my permission.”

 

“Okay, I won’t,” Keith said. "I'm sorry."

 

“It's...okay. You just had me worried sick,” Lance replied, scratching the back of his head. “Hey…uh…do you want to sleepover?”

 

“I live upstairs, in case you forgot,” Keith said with a smirk, “but sure.”

 

Lance grinned, “We could play some Mario Kart, dibs on Yoshi.”

 

“Like always,” Keith said.

 

As Lance set up the game, Keith stood next to him, twiddling his thumbs. “I…um…do you want to hang out sometime?”

 

Lance froze, “Where?”

 

“Like to a museum,” Keith said, “Ari mentioned he wanted to go on one to see some paintings.”

 

“Are you asking me out?” Lance turned to him, smiling.

 

“Depends on the context,” Keith said, “Do you want it to be?”

 

“Maybe,” Lance said, handing him a controller, “it’s not a date if Ari tags along though, Mullet.”

 

“Well, next time then,” Keith said, leaning against the wall, “we do the museum thing with Ari first and then I’ll take you out.”

 

“Sounds like a plan,” Lance said and a beat later, he added, “Mami.”

 

“Damn it, you’re never going to let that go are you?”

 

“It’s cute,” Lance said, shrugging. “C’mon, Mami, you know you love it.”

 

 _I really do,_ Keith thought.

 

“Oh, shut up,” Keith said, and sat next to him.

 

Lance nudged him with his shoulder. “You’re going to try harder if you want to tap my ass.”

 

“Jesus, Lance,” Keith said, groaning.

 

"Thank you, by the way," Lance said, kissing his cheek, "it means a lot for me and Ari."

 

"No problem."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment! It helps me out a lot :)
> 
> Did you guys guess it was a grave yard they were going?
> 
> welp, it was pretty obvious LOL i was really trying to make it a mysterious place xD


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life gets Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, this is almost 10k words.
> 
> I changed some things in the chapters, especially the first one.  
> I change Delilah's nickname from Dee to Lala ^^""""" hehe
> 
> So this chapter is pretty hard on me myself. So these weeks were so trippy. 
> 
> I lost my grandmother. I knew it was going to happen sooner or later, but fuck she died too suddenly. I have too many regrets. I loved her a lot. I honestly cried whenever I thought about her, and too say goodbye was so hard. The fact that she wouldn't be there for me was so crushing. 
> 
> So, this chapter was a way for me to say all the stuff I never did say. I get this is a dedications. Love you lots, Mommy. 
> 
> I would like to thank my wonderful and beautiful editor and BETA pal: galaxy-gayrrison
> 
>  
> 
> .  
> .  
> .
> 
> Song I listened to:
> 
> Gone, Gone, Gone - Phillip Phillips  
> Chasing Pavements - Adele  
> We're Best Friends - Hans Zimmer ( this is important. This is a movie soundtrack used in the chap)  
> See you Again - Wiz Khalifa, Charlie Puth  
> Only You - Selena Gomez
> 
> WARNING: ANXIETY ATTACKS. (read at your own risk.)

_Sometimes Lance forgot he wasn’t the only one devastated about Delilah’s death._

 

_The house was filled with quiet whispers and condolences. People were sharing their respects to his family. They were all huddled together in their inky black clothing and just talked with minimal voices because…Wow…Delilah McClain died._

 

_The silence had been going on for a week at least. Cold and mean like the thunderstorm that night. They could have survived, Lance thought, if that bastard hadn’t smash his stupid truck to their car. He hoped that fucker was going to rot in prison for the rest of his life. Lance did not like to condemn people because he was not that kind of person, but there are exceptions alright? Those were the drunk drivers and their absolute incompetence._

 

 _Lance was standing by the staircase, away from the crowd, away from the vigil that held millions of pictures of his older sister. They were not minding his brooding expression, ignoring the inner struggles of the young man. The baby, Ari, was with Margot somewhere in the living room. People looked at the child with pity and deep sadness, which was messed up in a way. Ari was just a baby and he can’t comprehend what exactly they are telling him with their eyes. He did not know the gravity of the situation. It’s not like one of them was going to yell out,_ **_‘Hey! Your parents are dead. How do you feel about that, tiny human?’_ **

 

_Lance was sipping his fourth glass of wine. He did not feel tipsy yet. Maybe the total fucked-up-ed-ness of the whole matter was granting an eternity of sobriety. He should get a fifth glass or perhaps a sixth one to calm the calamity storming in his head. A seventh will probably do the job. Screw it, he might as well down the whole bottle. Just as he was about to pour its contents down his throat, it is plucked out of his grasp. Nessie was in front of him, her maroon lips in a tight line. Lance gritted his teeth, glaring at her._

 

_“Lance,” she said firmly. There’s her voice. Typical Nessie, not even a crack in it. She looked at him with askance. Her dark brown eyes were staring deeply, trying decode the inner workings of his mind. Ha! Lance knew he was a living riddle, a very clever lie! He had been living like that for a while now, and at this point, he might as well be tricking himself to believe in those lies._

 

_“Esperanza,” Lance said, drawing her first name. The vowels in a solid emphasis. “Care for a drink?”_

 

_“You and I both know you aren’t supposed to be drinking,” she hissed as if expecting to be him all chatty and rowdy like he usually was whenever he drank. “Who gave you that? Was it Connor?”_

 

_“Relax, Ness,” Lance said, rolling his eyes. “I’m allowed to let loose. Do you know exactly how I'm feeling right now?”_

 

_“I know how you feel right now because I am feeling the same thing,” she said, resting her hands on her hips. “You are not the only one who lost a sister, Lance.”_

 

_That shut him up._

 

 _“You think you are the only one obligated to feel this way?” Nessie said, eyes ablaze. “Perdi a mi hermanita. Debía protegerla.”_ **_I lost my little sister. I should have protected her._ **

 

 _“Lo que paso no es tú culpa,” Lance replied softly, putting the wine glass down._ **_What happened wasn’t your fault._ **

 

 _“Tampoco es culpa tuya,” Nessie said, shaking her head._ **_It wasn’t your fault either._ ** _“No podías hacer nada.”_ **_There’s nothing you could have done._ **

 

_“Did you know I called her on that day?” Lance said, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Mike answered. He gave me good advice like he always does. Crap, I didn’t know it would be the last time I’d talk to him.”_

 

_“Lance, it’s okay,” Nessie said, touching his shoulder. Lance almost flinched. “I…damn…The last time I talked to Delilah was literally a month ago. Something about baby shoes or whatever. I was never into those type of things, so I wasn’t really listening to half of the things she kept blabbering about. I should… I should have listened.”_

 

_“The last time I talked to her was about groceries,” Lance laughed morosely, the memory that once brought him mundane joy had turned into a painful one. “Groceries! She kept talking about her art class and wanting to come back to her kids. I really just wanted my chicken nuggets.”_

 

_Nessie smiled sadly, tucking a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear. “That’s really nice. I knew she loved those kids. I knew she wanted to be mother ever since. She just had this natural maternal instinct that I never had. I was always jealous about that, y’know? She was closer to all of you than I ever was.”_

 

_“Nessie, don’t think like that,” Lance said, “you’re going to be a good mom.”_

 

_“Let’s not worry about that right now,” Nessie sighed, rubbing her nose. “You, on the other hand, are going to be dad to Ari.”_

 

_“Christ, it’s so surreal,” Lance said with a hefty breath. “What if I’m not good enough? What if I fuck him up? Shit, Ness. I’m a mess! How the hell am I supposed to take care of another human? I can barely take care of myself!”_

 

_Nessie placed both hands on his shoulders. “You’re going to be fine, okay? I have a feeling this kid might be the best thing that has ever happened to you.”_

 

_“Maybe. The best thing I ever had left me,” Lance said ironically. “Estoy destinado a estar solo para siempre.” **I am forever doomed to be alone.**_

 

_“Don’t ever think that,” Nessie said, frowning. “Ari is not a distraction. He is a child. He is your child. Ari deserves more than to be a goddamn distraction.”_

 

_Her every word punched out like a typewriter. Nessie didn’t mind that Lance is bearing down on her. She was a flame in a candle. Lance wanted to extinguish her right there because Nessie was so much stronger than him. He was jealous because she did not look like a wreck like he did. She had a calm demeanor, standing like an unquenchable fire and never blinking. But Nessie was human, and Lance can see that. He knew Nessie wasn’t blinking lest the tears fall._

 

_“Lance, the thing about love is that it does not necessarily mean romantic ones,” Nessie said, “Love is the person you need the most. It is fickle and challenging, but that is the beauty of it. Love has no bounds. It does not choose. Not everything those cliché romance novels taught you is accurate._

 

_“I’ve always thought that love was the kind you would kill for, or even die for,” Nessie said softly, her eyes glassy. “Love…is more than that.”_

 

_Lance took a shuddering breath, feeling his eyes burn. He took a look at the small bundle in Margot’s arms, people crowding around the infant. They cooed at him, giving him weak smiles. They were faint, but they are enough._

 

_“Love,” Lance started, and tears streaming down his cheeks. “Love is the kind you live for.”_

 

_Before Nessie could ask if he was okay, Lance left. Her hand was still in the air, but she didn't try to follow him. Lance had gone upstairs. There was a long hallway before him. There were several sets of doors. He had a big family. He shared a room with Danny and then he moved out. He shared a room with Connor and then the crazy fiasco happened. The one where he ignored him for like a month, so he moved to the guest room. Once Lance went off to college, Darwin and Connor shared a room. The memories floated through the doors, ghosts walking through them, both living and dead._

 

_Lance sometimes wished he would be dead. Just like Delilah, or maybe better yet, he should have taken her place altogether._

 

_Gah, No, Lance. You are an adult. You don’t feel sorry for yourself. You can’t._

 

_That was how it was because he was living in the real world now. Lance couldn’t hit pause just because the world wanted to piss him off some more, but he could always creep into Delilah’s old room. She had a separate bedroom because Nessie went to a fancy boarding school. He wanted to slide down her door, pressing his back against the wood and just bury his face in his knees. He could rip off the mask he’d been wearing and let go all of the tears._

 

_He could still remember that dreadful day. Lance had never lost someone so close to him besides his grandmother, but that was long time ago. Hospital trips were frequent, but it was normal back then. It had become routine until Grandma Nancy passed away. Lance didn’t cry. People become corpses anyway. Infancy to your deathbed. Sometimes even sooner. The fact was that seeing dead bodies was normal in hospitals._

 

_But the accident happened and he could still remember how lifeless Delilah’s body looked like._

 

_Mama was crying over her body. Her fat tears dropping on her cold skin. A red heart suddenly stopping, going cold. Her lips were pale and slightly parted, but no air comes out. She was like a porcelain doll, but with too many cracks and bruises. Blue eyes gone dark. The lights in them was gone. The light of life. The spark inside of them, the little flicker that let people know you’re not some heartless monster._

 

_Those past few days, people have told him that his light was gone. The light in his eyes gone dark like a dead fish. They were a murky blue color like deadly stillwater. A lifeless ocean._

 

_Lance still hadn’t seen Mike’s body. The Zhang family was taking custody over it. The joint funeral was coming soon, but for now, the married couple’s respected families are mourning in their own household. He had imagined what Mike’s eyes would look like. Mike already had dark eyes, but they are no longer the warm honey brown ones. They were dark like a blank screen. His eyes staring forward, but with no direction. If that made sense. His eyes are dim, darkness seeping out of every opening. It was like unplugging a television. Black. There was no white noise, just plain silence._

 

_Lance noticed the door slightly ajar. It led to Delilah’s room. It had the rickety old pink wooden name plate on it. It was the one they did back when they all went out for family day. Lance’s was painted blue._

 

_He inched closer to the room and he heard sniffling. The sounds grew louder as he went nearer. He crept into the room, pulling it back and saw the source of the noise._

 

_Darwin sat on the bed. A quilted blanket draped over his shoulders. There were several dresses strewn all over the floor. Drawers had yanked away from their cabinets. Makeup and necklaces were a jumbled mess on the vanity._

 

_Lance paused. He can’t see Darwin’s face. His head was buried in something on his lap. It was a white sundress. It was Delilah’s favorite until she lost it at some point. Darwin was clenching the white fabric tightly. His knuckles were a pallid color from his strong grip. The dark hair was a stark contrast against the immaculate clothing. It looked like ink spilling on a piece of paper._

 

_“Darwin?” Lance called out tentatively, hand gripping the doorknob. “You okay, bud?”_

 

_The boy lifted his head, lips wobbling. His eyes flooded with tears, red in the corners. “I’m not okay.”_

 

_Lance quickly came up to him, he crouched in front of him, grabbing his hands away from the dress. He gently caressed his palms, smoothing the half-moons on them. “What’s wrong?”_

 

_“I—I miss her so much,” Darwin said, voice straining._

 

_Lance rubbed his knuckles. “I do too. I miss her more than I can ever comprehend.”_

 

_“How can I live without her, Lance?” he croaked out, desperation laced in his tone. “She knew me. She knew everything about me. She was there when…when I couldn’t be there for myself.”_

 

_“What do you mean?” Lance asked, worried. “When you couldn't be there for yourself?”_

 

_Darwin sucked in a shaky breath, and then said, “For the longest time, I’ve hated myself.”_

 

_Lance kept quiet, only nodding for him to continue. Darwin swallowed a lump in his throat. He wiped his wet nose with his sleeve._

 

_“D-Delilah was there,” he said, trying to keep eye contact and then dropped his gaze down to his lap. “She gave me this.”_

 

_“Her dress?” Lance said incredulously, “I remember her whining about losing it in some beach.”_

 

_“She lied,” Darwin said, “I told her about somethings. Things I never wanted people to know. I…wanted to be like her.”_

 

_“Like Delilah?”_

 

_“In a way,” Darwin said, smiling sadly. “I used to be so jealous with our sisters playing dress-up. They’d be wearing all these pretty dresses with sparkles and ruffles. They would do each other makeup and braid each other’s hair. I wanted to be like that.”_

 

_“You want to be a girl?” Lance said, eyes widening, and then he continued softly. “There’s nothing wrong with that, hermano…”_

 

_“That’s the thing,” Darwin said, running his hand on his hair wildly, “but I wanted to play space explorer, play video games, and well, other stereotypical boy stuff.”_

 

_“What are you trying to say?” Lance said, confused. “Those are all normal kid stuff.”_

 

_“Really?”_

 

_“Yeah, there’s nothing wrong about being a princess or a space explorer,” Lance said, patting his knee. “Hell, you could be a princess space explorer with a moving space castle and have like mercenaries for hire…they could be color coded if you wanted to.”_

 

_“I don’t know,” Darwin shook his head, “I always thought I grew up weird. Like I was wired the wrong way?”_

 

_“There is no such thing of being wired the wrong way,” Lance said, “We’re just wired differently. It’s kinda boring if we’re all the same, don’t you think?”_

 

_“Yeah,” Darwin laughed, smiling bright. “Delilah used to say that.”_

 

_“Really?”_

 

_“You guys are way too similar,” Darwin commented, ducking his head, shying away from Lance’s eyes. “She told me it’s okay to be different. Life would be really dull if everything would stay the same.”_

 

_“Life as we know it,” Lance said, nodding. He ruffled Darwin’s hair. “Sometimes we stay the same, but its our choice to be better.”_

 

_“Thank you, for understanding,” Darwin said, tears escaped his eyes. His cheeks were a ruddy red. Despite the sadness they held, his eyes glimmer with happiness, with hope, “_

_They hugged. Lance squeezed Darwin’s shoulders tenderly. He gently patted his hair, tangling his fingers in those dark locks. They let go of each other, but not separating each other’s hold on their hands. Darwin clenches his fingers._

 

_“I want to show you something,” Darwin said, moving towards the closet. He opened its doors, and then grabbed a shoe box. It was decorated with stickers and colorful sharpie markers. On top of the cover it spelled: Double D’s_

 

_Lance snorted at the title, looking at his brother expectantly, wanting an explanation for the suggestive name._

 

_Darwin blushed and plopped down on the floor. “Oh, shut up.”_

 

_Darwin opened the box. It made Lance genuinely smile for the first time all afternoon. The beauty and age continued to hold his interest intensely. Inside the box were old polaroids. They captured Delilah and Darwin all dolled up in dressy attires. Some looked like they came out of a Vogue magazine and some of them came out something casual, more of an everyday kind of wear. There were some pictures in which Delilah dressed up like Will Smith from The Fresh Prince of Bel-air. She still managed to pull it off._

 

_“I used to model for Delilah’s photography projects,” Darwin explained, blushing. “We’d go to different places together,uncharted areas like some kind adventure to discover the world’s secrets. It was like we were on the hunt to capture beauty. I had so much fun wearing the clothes, the makeup, and the trips. It was never boring. I felt like my spirit went alive, going volatile. I never felt so free.”_

 

_He ran his fingers over glossy worn surfaces and Delilah’s cursive handwriting, fascinated with the way the photographs were captured. It was obviously from Delilah’s skill as a photographer. She was always the artsy and creative type in the family._

 

_“It was like some dirty little secret,” Darwin said, fidgeting in his place. “What I’ve been hiding for years.”_

 

_Lance jerked away from his consuming inspection, he started at Darwin’s voice. He was fully engrossed in the beautifully capture photos._

 

_“These are gorgeous,” Lance grinned, flipping through the different shots. There were multi-colored ones, some in a gradient color, and in grayscale. “You’ve been holding out, Dee.”_

 

_“Dee,” Darwin repeated, testing the name on his tongue. It was a short monosyllabic word, but somehow it meant the world to the teen. “I really like that. Can you call me that from now on?”_

 

_“What do you mean?” Lance asked, confused. “It’s just a name.”_

 

_Darwin nodded at the box still clutched in his hands. “It’s just...I want to be me, y’know? I know names aren’t really a big deal, but I always felt weird being called Darwin.”_

 

_“How come?” Lance asked, cocking his head to the side._

 

_Darwin sighed. “You guys have all kinds of nicknames...and I’m just Darwin. I don’t feel special. It’s stupid, I know.”_

 

_“Aww, buddy,” Lance said, poking his Darwin’s nose. He recoiled from the contact. “If you want to be called that, then it’s fine. Whether you’re Dee or Darwin or maybe something else, you will always still my annoying little sibling, okay?”_

 

_Darwin glared at his description, but quickly formed a soft smile. “I guess so,” Darwin said, rubbing nose._

 

_“You’ve read Romeo and Juliet, right?” Lance asked, tapping his chin. “Oh Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?”_

 

_Darwin chuckled, covering his mouth with a hand. “Of course I know Romeo and Juliet. It’s the romantic of the most romantic shit.”_

 

_“Correct!” Lance said, he grabbed a picture of Darwin. Lance thought it was the prettiest picture in the pile. Darwin was laying down on a bed of wildflowers, hair spilling over the pastel petals. He wore Delilah’s white sundress. The lace reaching down to his knobby knees. There was something extra-special about it. Perhaps it was the candidness of the photo, the smile genuine and bright. “What's in a name? That which we call a rose. By any other name would smell as sweet.”_

 

_Darwin couldn’t contain his laughter, he shoved Lance’s shoulder playfully, “Don’t be so cheesy!”_

 

_“Lance? Darwin?” Mama’s voice called out. “Are you up there?”_

 

_“Oh crap,” Darwin said, turning from him. The box clutched tightly against his chest. “I-I’m not ready to tell Mama yet.”_

 

_Shrugging, Lance said, “It’s okay. It is really up to you when to tell her or the rest of the family. It’s your call, bud. I won’t say anything.”_

 

_“Thank you,” Darwin smiled. “I’m...I’m glad someone else knows.”_

 

_“If it makes you feel better, I know they will accept you,” Lance placed a hand on his shoulder. “I mean, look at me and Margot. We turned out fine.”_

 

 **_We did turn out fine_ ** _, Lance thought. Acceptance was a gratifying thing. It was like learning how to breathe. Looking down, he found himself clutching the old box as if his life depended on it. “I’m sure they will.”_

 

_“So what’s with the mess?” Lance questioned, eyeing the disarray of random clothing and items. “Were you looking for something?”_

 

_“Oh!” Darwin yelped, remembering his goal in the first place, “I was look for Lala’s old camera...I need it. It’s the only thing I have left of her.”_

 

_Lance smirked, “I know where it is.”_

 

_Darwin perked up. It reminded Lance of a rabbit. “Where?”_

 

_“She never told anyone this, but I figured it out,” Lance proclaimed proudly. He grabbed the bedside table and then opened the faux bottom, revealing to be a secret compartment. Inside of it was Delilah’s old camera. Dust gathered around it from the lack of use, but it still looked functionable. Lance grabbed it and then presented it to Darwin who was staring at it with astonishment. Lance handed it to him. Darwin took the camera, holding up gingerly like an ancient artifact._

 

_Lance chuckled. “She thought she was so smart, but nope! I found that little secret by looking for her diary.”_

 

_Darwin shook his head, eyes dancing with mirth._

 

_“Boys!” Mama called out from the stairs. “Your cousins are here!”_

 

 _They both looked at each other, both wearing twin looks of ease. Lance stood up, dusting his pants. He held out a hand to his sibling, palms wide open. It was a symbol of acceptance. “C’mon,_ **_Dee_ ** _, we shouldn’t keep Mama waiting.”_

 

_Dee smiled like the world was finally at peace. In some other place, Delilah was probably smiling at them._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

Lance picked up the package, smiling gratefully at his sibling on the scooter. The helmet was secured tightly on their head. There was a smirk playing on their lips. The look in their glimmering from the afternoon light, but that wasn’t the only thing that was in their blue and brown eyes.

 

Dee leaned their elbow on the scooter, looking coy. There was one eyebrow raised, corner of their mouth quirked to the side. Lance could say Dee looked like a tumblr dashboard. They rocked the grunge look, looking better than any dirty hipster. Small tufts of hair poked out the helmet, the tips looking like it was recently tye-dye. Even from a distance, he could hear the sounds of K-pop music booming from their headphones.

 

“How’s art school?” Lance asked, drumming his fingers on the package. He stared at Dee’s t-shirt which was in a dreary grey color, on the front of which big white blocky letters had written out the words: **I SPEAK FLUENT SARCASM**

 

Both of Dee’s eyebrows shot up. They adjusted the messenger bag resting on their thigh, making sure it was tight and secure against their body. They removed the helmet, freeing the wild colorful curls. They shook their head and it reminded Lance of a color wheel...or a dog. They were just released from school as well.

 

“Artsy,” Dee replied, in which he imagined was a dull tone with a side of tart. It was hard to tell what they were thinking most of the time. Puberty changes you. Dee didn’t look like the awkward chubby cherub-face kid, but they just look like lanky kid with too long limbs. “Is that all I’m going to get after nearly two months of radio silence?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Lance apologized, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. Dee looked at him with an unimpressed face. They’re a lot paler now, like a dead person’s tan. It’s most likely from spending too much time developing in the dark room. If he squinted hard enough, he could see a bit Keith in them. The rebellion and sharp gazes. Oh, and that nose ring is new and so he mentioned it out-loud.

 

“I got it a few days ago,” Dee gingerly fiddled with the piercing with a finger, slightly wincing at the movement. “Stop changing the subject.”

 

Well, he tried.

 

“It isn’t my fault our wifi blew up,” Lance whined, pouting at them. “Blame it on Pidge, they keep fiddling with it. Do you know how many time I had to calm Ari down since we couldn’t play Voltron? I had to use my all of my precious data.”

 

Dee rolled their eyes at him, sighing at the excuse. “I’m not forcing you to, but it would have been great to hear your voice. Stop treating your cellphone like it was the instrument of the devil.”

 

“I’m not,” Lance said tiredly, his shoulder slumping. “I’ve been busy, and so have you, mind you.”

 

“I’m a wandering spirit,” Dee replied, grinning. Their crooked teeth peeking out of lips. “It’s who I am.”

 

“Yeah,” Lance agreed, ruffling Dee’s messy mop of hair. Dee swatted the hand away playfully. “I’m glad you’re happy with what you’re doing. I’ve seen your pictures, and they’re absolutely breathtaking.”

 

“I enjoy them a lot,” Dee said, “I found my identity through it. I grew up with you guys. I became more adept about understanding uncertain things and how society viewed me as a person. I feel valid.”

 

“You should,” Lance said, “Your feelings are valid. You don’t need anyone to tell you that.”

 

Dee nodded gratefully, “how’s the little tike?”

 

“He’s doing great,” Lance said, proudly. “He’s eating all his vegetables.”

 

“Ew,” Dee said, face scrunched in disgust. “No, thanks.”

 

“Oh, you are going to beg for vegetables once you reach adulthood,” Lance said wisely.

 

“I’m an adult,” they said defensively.

 

“You’re college freshmen,” Lance pointed out, “It’s like highschool all over again, except you have to pay your own shit now. Say hello to student loans for me,” he winked at him.

 

“You’re horrible,” They said.

 

“But at least I’m sexy.”

 

“That’s debatable,” Darwin replied tone laced with an abundance of snark, “you have a flat ass.”

 

“Do you talk to people like this?” Lance asked dryly with a chagrined smile. “No wonder you only have internet friends.”

 

Dee rolled their eyes and crossed their arms petulantly. “I’m not anti-social, I’m anti-idiot.”

 

“You must be allergic to the world then,” Lance responded, patting the helmet on Dee’s hand. His nails were painted a black with a single dot on the center. Wait, is that a tattoo? What the fu—

 

“Papa!” a small voice yelled.

 

Lance turned to see his son running towards him with Keith trailing behind, wearing a pleasant smile on his face. Inside of Ari’s fist was a red balloon. The boy crashed into his lower body and Lance let out a soft chuckle. He ruffled the boy’s wind-blown hair.

 

“What do you have there?”

 

“Balloon!” Ari said, jumping up and down. “Keith took me to the zoo today! There’s so many different animals. THERE WAS A LION!”

 

“Oh?” Lance said, grinning. “That must have been so cool.”

 

“It was! But I’m kinda sad he’s in a cage,” Ari said with pout. “But Keith told me they do it cause he’s endangered or something.”

 

“Maybe,” he said.

 

Ari nodded and turned to face Dee, who grinned at him maniacally.

 

“Remember me, little one?” they asked.

 

Ari widened his eyes and then immediately hugged them. “DeeDee!”

 

“Yeah!” They laughed, hugging him tightly. “It’s DeeDee. You’re so big now!”

 

“Yep! I grew five centimeters!” Ari proclaimed proudly.

 

Dee patted his head affectionately. They took out their camera, and took a quick snapshot of the boy. Ari grinned brightly.

 

Lance watched their interaction with soft eyes. He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Keith’s.

 

Lance shook his head, smirking. “The zoo, huh?”

 

“He said he’s never seen a real lion before,” Keith shrugged. “I thought I should fix that.”

 

“Thank you,” Lance said, ducking his head bashfully. “That’s really sweet that you did that.”

 

“I like Ari. He reminds a lot of you,” Keith said, looking away. There was a red tint on his cheeks.

 

“Same,” Lance said, poking the heated cheek. “Reminds me of you.”

 

“Thanks, I think,” Keith said. He bit his lip, the piercing glinting in the sunlight.

 

“I’m really looking forward to our future date,” Lance said, a cheeky smile on his face. Lance was lying, he's terrified. Honestly. Things are moving way too fast, and he's probably going to get a whiplash for thinking to much on it. “I hope you exceed my expectations. I mean that concert was fun despite, y’know, running into my ex.”

 

Keith groaned, “Are you—? You’re never letting that go, are you?”

 

“Never.”

 

“Yet, you don’t remember that bonding moment.”

 

“You haven’t told it to me yet,” Lance comment, “Are you ever going to tell me?”

 

“Soon, but not now,” Keith said like always, skirting around the idea.

 

“I’m hoping, Mami,” Lance said with a wink.

 

“Keith is my **_Mami_**?” Ari said suddenly, eyes wide.

 

The two men gaped, sputtering incomprehensible. Their eyes bouncing from each other to Ari. The both gesture wildly.

 

“That’s just a—”

 

“He’s just joking—”

 

“It’s a nickna—”

 

“There’s nothing—”

 

“Yeah, he’s your mom now,” said Dee, smirking cheekily, and then a shit-eating grin taking over its place. “I think it's pretty cool to have him as a mom, don’t you think?”

 

“Yeah!” Ari agreed. “I think Keith is okay.”

 

At this, Keith stopped his rambling. His face akin to a tomato ready to explode. He covered his mouth with a hand looking away. He looked extremely pleased with the idea.

 

“Alfor said he’s cool,” Ari said with a shrug, “He says his dad is way too weird.”

 

“Ain’t that truth,” Lance said rolling his eyes. “Even a bigger memelord than me.”

 

“A walking shit-post,” Keith said.

 

“What’s shit-post?” Ari said curiously.

 

The siblings glared at Keith with a fury of a thousand suns.

 

Keith winced.

 

.

.

.

 

_Here is what Lance knew: that grief is a twisting, clawing thing._

 

_So when he was up in front of the mourning crowd, he can already feel the tightness forming in his chest. A sea faces that he should know by now, but can’t because he was blinded with his tears. He felt numb in all honesty. He couldn’t feel the wetness on his cheeks or the way that his eyes should have burnt. Lance had been waking up with nightmares about their bodies and about the accident more times than he could count. Sometimes he was in the damn car with them, the flash of light blinding him, and he was ready for the hit until he woke up covered in his own sweat and tears. Lance was so fucking tired. Maybe it was because he hadn’t slept for three days straight or that he was so fucking done with hating the world. Hate was a powerful word, and Lance can no longer bear to say it anymore because what happened can never be fixed. There was only grim acceptance._

 

_Lance cleared his throat, wringing his hands together. He sucked in a breath, and then let it out._

 

_“Hey, everyone. Thank you for coming. It means a lot for all of you to come here for Delilah and Mike. They would have appreciate it,” Lance said shakily, sending them a sad smile. “I remember when we were younger, we used to play house. Delilah would always be the mom and I’d be the dad. She would have this stuffed animal tucked under her shirt to pretend to be pregnant. She looked like a whale honestly. We used to play inside the old tree house. I remember building it with Dad and Danny. Anyways, so we would go all over the place. We’d fight over the littlest things! It was ridiculous. There was this one time while we were in a particularly stupid fight, Delilah fell off the ledge of the damn house. I almost pissed my pants. Mama would have whooped my ass to next year. And then I go over, panicking, and then I laugh so fucking hard! Holy shit! Delilah was just hanging by a branch cause her skirt got caught on a freaking twig or something!”_

 

_Everyone laughed. His mother raised an eyebrow, but a smile was playing on her lips._

 

_“I saw her Disney Princesses underwear! God, it was hilarious. I remember I had to call up Danny to go pick her up cause I was too short to get her myself. There was this other time when we went grocery shopping, and then we were doing a snapchat. Delilah went in front of the camera shooting some dumb faces, walking backwards until she fucking lost her footing and promptly fell on a tower of tomato soup cans! Oh my God. I joined her on the floor because I was basically rolling on the floor laughing my lungs out. Then there was this time that we stole all of Nessie’s Barbies and we’d play like we’re in a hair salon. We chopped all of her dolls’ hair, and we’d draw on them with permanent markers cause it was like makeup! It literally looked like Juankie chewed them up and spat it out afterwards. Nessie literally went all rage mode and she chased us all over the house until the three of us got smacked on the ass by Mama’s chancla!”_

 

_Everyone laughed harder, tears were streaming down their faces. Nessie managed to crack a smile from the memory._

 

_“And then, Delilah had this huge crush on Mike. She used to stalk him on social media. They had this lovely meeting even though Delilah basically knew him at that point. So like, there was this time I caught them making out in the broom closet, and I just said ‘I need my jacket’, and then Mike gave it to me and said ‘See you later’ and then closed the door. I didn’t know if I should mortified or not! Then there was this time Mike tripped over a bucket on a beach and face planted on some kid’s sandcastle. He had to pretend he was Harry Potter to shush the kid. He said shit like ‘Wingardium Leviosa’ or ‘Incendio’ or even said like ‘Hogwarts is waiting for you’. I wonder how that kid’s doing. I guess he’s still waiting for that letter to come.”_

 

_The Zhang family laughed harder than the rest of the crowd. They’re cheeks all red from smiling._

 

_“Fuck,” Lance chuckled, wiping his eyes, “I miss them so much.”_

 

_“They helped me out so much. It’s like they knew what to tell me whenever I was too depressed to even stand up. I am so fortunate to have these people I love in my life so much. You make sacrifices all the time. You put off things you want to do and you put off adventures, time after time because the best adventure is to be together and that person leaves. You’d think what the hell you’re supposed to do now. How are you supposed to walk when the crutch is gone?”_

 

_Lance cleared his throat once again and then said, “They left Ari with me. To be honest, I’m scared shitless. I’m going the be the kid's crutch and he can’t even walk yet. Ari deserved to have them here. They would have been amazing parents. I...I want that kid to experience their love and attention and that would be my responsibility now. He’s so tiny, but has so much life in him. I’m so fucking thankful that kid made it. He made it through the impossible. He’s probably the messiah or something.”_

 

_Lance laughed, glancing at the small bundle. Margot smiled at him, and then gingerly handed the baby to him. Lance rocked the child. Ari grasped his finger and Lance chuckled. He sighed softly at the young one._

 

_“Ari, you’re so tiny. I don’t know if that’s supposed to be a good thing,” Lance said, curling his finger around the small fist, “but sometimes, the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.”_

 

_Lance’s tears dripped on Ari’s cheeks. The boy scrunched his nose from the wetness._

 

_Lance grinned and then kissed his forehead, wiping the tear away._

 

_“The moment I saw you for the first time,” Lance whispered softly, but it was enough for everyone to hear his words. “I knew a grand adventure was about to happen.”_

 

_Lance looked up, and then turned his head. He stared at Delilah and Mike’s photos, lingering over their smiling faces. “I’m not sure if I’m ever ready to say goodbye to you guys. Delilah, you always said you wanted to spend the rest of your life with Mike, but I never thought it would end so soon. I...those fairytales you always read to me reminded me of our lives together. I really hoped we would have a happy ending together. I wished we’d go back to page one and do everything all over again.”_

 

_Lance turned back to the crowd who were all weeping, their smiles turning watery._

 

_“Thank you,” he said. He handed the spot to Nessie._

 

_Her speech was short. Too short if you ask him._

 

_Nessie was braver than him. Quiet at the funeral, quiet during the day, and Lance wants to scream at her, because her silence felt so wrong. She should have cried. She should have sobbed her eyes out._

 

_Delilah was her fucking sister._

 

_The moment she ended her speech, she darted out of the room, and left to the backyard. Mama stood up to follow her, but Lance placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. He handed Ari to her, smiling at her softly._

 

_“I’ll handle it,” he whispered and then stood up, leaving the room to find his sister._

 

_Nessie sat on the porch steps. Her posture was rigid. The dark hair of her bun was disheveled, large chunks of it spilling on her back. Her shoulders were tense. Lance sighed, and then walked towards. He sat next to her. She dropped her head on his shoulder. They both stared blankly ahead. The silence was comforting. The breeze flying threw the wind chimes. The sound was soothing. It reminded him of Delilah’s laugh. Sharp, but nice to listen to. It was the kind of laugh that lit up an entire room, no matter how dreary it is, but now that’s gone too. It’s like Delilah sucked out the life out everyone the moment she left for the other side._

 

_“Do you think the world wanted her to die?” Nessie said quietly, too faint for Lance to catch. “Does it just want to take all the good away? All the good people? Is that how undeserving we are?”_

 

_Fate, the world would say. Destiny. Predetermined storyline._

 

_Bullshit, Lance would say._

 

_Was it Destiny for Delilah to fucking die that young? Was it fate that laughed at his face because his life couldn’t even get shittier than it already was? Fuck fairytales. There are no happy endings._

 

_Shut up, Lance would snap. Choice. Chaos. Nonlinear._

 

_“I don’t have all the answers, Ness,” Lance said, twirling the stray lock of her hair. “It’s funny.”_

 

_“What’s funny?” She asked._

 

_“Destiny. I don’t believe it,” Lance said, watching the way the raven hair curled around his thin finger. “Day by day, nothing changes. Sometimes, I look back. Nothing is the same. Everything is different. Past. Future. Present. Everything.”_

 

_“That’s true,” she snorted, blinking away the tears. “Fuck destiny.”_

 

_“Yeah, what a bitch,” Lance agreed, the corner of his mouth lifted. “Wanna listen to something?”_

 

_“You brought your phone?” She lifted her head, staring at him incredulously._

 

_He nodded, and took it out of his suit pocket. “Can’t live without it.”_

 

_She rolled her eyes._

 

_He took out a pair of earphones, and handed one to her. She placed into ear, closing her eyes. The golden light played on her face. She looked at peace, almost serene._

 

_“There’re no lyrics,” she said, eyes still remained closed._

 

_“Yeah, these are movie[soundtracks](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_EIF_tJtx34),” Lance said, listening to the orchestra playing. The string instrument creating a beautiful symphony. “I like to listen to them when I feel nostalgic.” _

 

_“How come?” she asked breezily, light like the wind. As if the words were carried by them._

 

_“When I listen to them, I recount memories as it plays,” Lance explained, tapping the earbud. “It’s like watching my memory like an old indie film.”_

 

_She nodded and continued to listen to the piece._

 

_After some time, she said clearly. “I miss her.”_

 

_“I know,” he said plainly._

 

_“It’s hard,” she said._

 

_“I know.”_

 

_“I still can’t wrap my mind about it.”_

 

_“I know.”_

 

_“Lance,” she said, turning to him. Her eyes filled to the brim with tears. Her lips wobbling. “I-I m-miss her so much.”_

 

_“It’s okay to cry, Ness,” Lance said, hugging her tenderly. “It’s okay to cry.”_

 

_“I have to be strong,” she said, shuddering. “I can’t show you how affected I am by all this. I know all of us are having a hard time, but I need to stay strong for all of you.”_

 

_“Ness, crying doesn’t make you weak,” Lance said, wiping the tears. “It...makes us closer. All of us are each other’s ‘strong’. You don’t need to shoulder all that.”_

 

_“But--”_

 

_“Things are never quite as scary when you’ve got someone with you,” Lance interjected, knocking their knees together, “especially having an awesome brother like me right next to you.”_

 

_Nessie laughed, covering her mouth. “You’re such a dork.”_

 

_“Well, I’m the fam’s dork.”_

 

_“True,” Nessie said, “you’re our lovable dork.”_

 

_“I hold the title proudly,” Lance said, gesturing into the air like a champion. “I also hold the title ‘Lover Boy’ proudly.”_

 

_“Well, thank you, Lover Boy,” She said, punching his shoulder lightly. “I guess it’s time to head back, huh?”_

 

_“There’s no rush,” Lance said, “we have all the time. We can wait for you.”_

 

_She shook her head, sighing, “No, I’m ready.”_

 

_“You sure?” he asked._

 

_“I’m pretty sure,” she said with a smirk. “Let’s go.”_

 

.

.

.

 

Lance woke up screaming.

 

The nightmares don’t stop, will probably never stop. He nearly sobbed when he woke up sometimes. His sister died in front of him over and over and over again. Glass shattering. Metal through her body and then he sees her face and then Mike’s. Their bodies, heartbeats like a countdown, and then it was gone. Flatline. He can feel it.

 

Lance glanced down to the small yellow bottle on the nightstand. His heart his sledgehammering out of his chest, almost as if fracturing his rib cage. Lance felt the bile coming up his throat. The acid reaching the back of his throat. He flung the blanket off his body. He rushed through the hallway, his feet thumping with every the step. He threw the door open, the wood slamming onto the wall. A portrait fell off the wall, and it shattered on the floor into a millions pieces. It was a picture of the three them. Spiderwebs cracks on their faces. Delilah and Mike grinning at him. His face is squished between the both of them.

 

Lance threw himself down the tiled floor, lifting the the lid up, and emptied the contents of his stomach. He retched, and retched, and retched until the acerbic taste was all there was left, until he could feel his heart flattened on the depths. His chest heaved with every breath. Brown tendrils of hair stuck to his forehead due to cold sweat. His hands felt clammy. He felt the bile come up again and he threw up once again, groaning at the pain erupting his stomach. It’s like he was puking his organs out. His shoulders were shivering like tectonic plates, ready to burst.

 

The small anxious voice in his head got louder, reverberating in his head. He could feel it crawling back inside like an uninvited guest. Lance didn’t like his brain. He could feel the voices screaming, banging around the inner walls of his mind. Lance knew how to use a gun, but bullets scare him. He was bordering on desperation at this point, ready to feel the gun fire to pass through his thrumming chest. The silence was bitter and weighted as the moment before the trigger was pulled.

 

Lance thought he was safe. That was what meds were supposed to do, right? Keep you safe, secure, and fucking _stable_. He cannot escape himself, cannot believe he could be anywhere else but here. The world was not forgiving. Lance thought Hell might exist. He wasn’t religious, but it existed in a way where you lose someone without meaning.

 

Nothing had changed. It was always the same.

 

The pain was tied around his hollow wrists like a marionette. He could feel the pain encompass him like a snake’s snapped jaw ready to swallow him whole. The words hissed into his ear, rattling his entire body with shudders.

 

His head.

 

It might be broken.

 

Fill the cracks with cotton. Tape the wires and hope for the best. Stitch him with yarn. The needle is sharp, enough to prick you with one touch. See the blood drawn. Go tie a bow up on it to finish him off.

 

_Flush_

 

He was fine.

 

.

.

.

 

Lance sat on the breakfast table, eating soggy cereal. Ari was eating porridge and it was not too hot or too cold. There weren’t any bears here, Lance thought amusingly. Ari gingerly took  spoonfuls of food. Sometimes, Ari was too mature for his age, but moments like these-- he can really see how young Ari was.

 

“Papa,” Ari called out.

 

Lance shook his head, waving the mundane thoughts away.

 

“Yes, Mijo?”

 

Ari cocked his head to the side like a puppy, pouting at him. Aw, adorable!

 

“Did you have another bad dream?” Ari asked, his voice laced with concern.

 

“...Maybe,” Lance answered.

 

“You said that we should always be honest with each other,” Ari said with a raised eyebrow, looking at him wearily. He asked again, “Did you have a bad dream?”

 

“Yeah,” Lance answered. Honestly, this time. “I did.”

 

“How come you have bad dreams?” Ari asked, making his calculating look. Ari thought life is like equations. He substituted variables with feelings and answers with people. It was a strange mind-set for seven-year-old-- Nearly eight, holy shi-- and it bothered Lance sometimes. Life was a journey to be experienced, not a problem to be solved with physics. “I only have good dreams.”

 

“It’s different for Papa,” Lance said, twirling his spoon.

 

“Is it cause you’re sick?” Ari asked.

 

“Yeah,” Lance said, smiling grimly. “I’m sick.”

 

Ari hummed, rubbing his thumb on his lower lip. He was thinking again. What a dangerous pastime.

 

“Do you see Mama when you dream?” Ari asked like a therapist. Weird. “Because I do too. Sometimes. Not a lot, but she's there.”

 

“Yeah, except when I see Mama,” Lance said, sniffing, “I don’t know if that is a good thing.”

 

“I think it depends on how we want to see it,” Ari said, smiling smallishly.  “You miss her right? I do too. I think we dream so we do not have to be apart for so long! If we are in each other’s dreams, we can spend time together all the time.”

 

“That’s...that’s right,” Lance said, ruffling his hair lovingly. He kissed his cheek. “You’re a smart cookie.”

 

Ari rolled his eyes, “I know. I’m smarter than Keith. Even that’s not much.”

 

.

.

.

 

_“And hope they rest in[peace](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OyVFppe-pNM&t=48s),” the minister said. _

 

_Their caskets was lowered. Delilah’s was a pristine pearl-colored one with golden trimming. Mike’s a sleek ebony-colored one. Lance could see his own reflection on it. Tears streaming down everyone’s cheeks. White flowers were thrown onto the coffins. It stood out contrastly on Mike’s. His mother’s yells muffled by her other son who was holding back his own screams._

 

_There was a sharp wail from his side. His mother crashed down on the grass. Nessie went down with her weeping their hearts out. Their tears enough to fill an entire ocean._

 

_“Mija!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “Mija!”_

 

_“Mama!” Danny yelled, joining them._

 

_The youngest McClain suddenly broke down and followed suit._

 

_Their father looked down on the grass, his fists clenching._

 

_“Delilah, my daughter,” he said, covering his mouth. “Why did you leave?”_

 

_Their yells was enough for everyone to start breaking down, the realization dawning into them._

 

_They wouldn’t see the couple ever again._

 

_Delilah and Mike were never coming back._

 

_Lance’s tears must have woken up Ari. The child started bawling as if he sensed the melancholic atmosphere. Lance didn’t bother to silent his cries._

 

_He was a little boy. They were his parents._

 

_Fuck, they were his **parents**. _

 

_And then Lance screamed._

 

.

.

.

 

Lance woke up screaming.

 

.

.

.

 

_“How can we not talk about family_

_When family's all that we got?”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :)
> 
> Leave some kudos and comment. It helps me out a lot. :D
> 
> 3K hits!?!??!?!?! THANK YOU GUYS. ;O;
> 
> IDK, if i did well on this, but I did my best.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life gets wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO this chapter is pretty fluffy and mild on the angst :)
> 
> Idk, i have big plans for future chapters! >:D
> 
> have fun with this cute one!
> 
> Thank you for my wonderful beta: galaxy-gayrisson
> 
> songs Listened to:
> 
> Treat You Better -Shawn Mendes  
> I want you back - Jackson Five  
> Slow Dance With You - Babeo Baggins  
> Can You Feel The Love Tonight - Lion King (movie ver.)  
> Wild- Troye Sivan

Lance was usually not the type to break up with someone. Hell, most of the time, he was the dumpee in the relationship. He had broken up with Keith once and that was when he was too tired to keep up with Keith’s volatile nature. In contrast, Keith had broken up with him far way too many times for him to count. It was probably why he was so hesitant to actually form any kind of relationship with the mulleted boy once more.

 

The Greg Incident didn’t count. For one, they never did break up verbally, it was some sort of mutual silent agreement. Secondly, Lance was a dick back then.

 

Lance had a string of girlfriends. He was good-looking and had a hot bod. Lance got fucking _game_.

 

Although, he had only fallen in love five times in his life. The first time being with the space. And Lance said yes to the galaxy garrison program because space was always his first love, always, a love that lasted far longer and goes deeper than any boy could ever compare. A love that transcends the subject and surpasses beyond light years.

 

Second, it was Nyma.

 

Oh my God, the relationship hadn’t even begun and he already knew it was going to be a shit storm.

 

The thing about Nyma was that she was a spitfire. She was like the sleek hood of a red convertible: shiny and nice to touch. Nyma had golden blonde hair cascading down her back that was tied in two twin pigtails. She constantly wore her cheerleader uniform. Everytime she made her appearance, it was like a movie cliche, slow motion and everything. Her pleated skirt brushed along her thighs, blonde pigtails bouncing with every step and a polite smile fixated on her lips.

 

Nyma liked life like a forest fire. She went to parties and flirted like a butterfly jumping on one flower to another. Nyma was the prettiest butterfly in school and somehow, she landed on Lance’s thorns.

 

Nyma was a bitch, but she was a bitch with motivation and a drive. Nyma knew who she was and the world she lived, so she used her assets. Emphasis on the ass, and well, of course tits. She used beauty like a weapon, as a whip to keep the boys in check. She was a woman, wasn’t she?

 

That meant she kept Lance in check, choke him with a leash.

 

Who was the bitch now?

 

Lance was in the swim team and so girls fawned over him whenever he threw his shirt off his tanned body. They usually liked to ogle over his abs, but the moment he opened his mouth, they left like his words were a repellant.

 

Nyma told him to shut his mouth unless she told him not to, and was that a challenge.

 

Maybe it was Stockholm Syndrome, or maybe Lance was just pathetic, either way none of them were any good. Lance didn’t break up with her.

 

So when they did break-up, it was world-shattering for him.

 

_Lance walked into the parking lot, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, condoms stashed inside of them. Lance fingers were clammy with sweat. He kept fiddling with the packet’s edges, walking briskly towards his girlfriend._

 

_Nyma stood by a tree, leaning her weight against the hood of his car. Her arms were loosely crossed over her chest, large golden ringlets resting on her shoulders. She wore a navy blue dress and a his letterman draped over thin shoulders._

 

_“Hey, babe,” Lance said, kissing her cheek. She looked at him unimpressively. “The line was long.”_

 

_She nodded, “Who was that by the way?”_

 

_“Who?”_

 

_“The guy you were giving looks,” Nyma said, cocking her head to the side. Her eyes held malice...or jealousy? Lance didn’t know. Nyma was like a see-saw, expressions teetering and quick to change. “I didn’t know you were gay.”_

 

_“I’m...not?” Lance said slowly. “Where are you getting this?”_

 

_Nyma raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. Ugh, Lance really wanted to re-do them. “I’ve been noticing some things. How ‘gay’ you’ve been acting.”_

 

_“What does that even mean?” Lance said, frustratingly. “How does one even act gay?”_

 

_She rolled her eyes, “I see the way you look at those guys, think I didn’t notice?”_

 

_Lance gulped. “Am I not allowed to think of some person as good-looking? It’s not like I’m going to ask them out.”_

 

_“I’m not going to be you beard, Lance,” she said icily. “I’m a bitch, but I’m a bitch who has dignity. You think you can play me? No way, no fucking way.”_

 

_“Are you breaking up with me?” Lance said, realization dawning on him._

 

_“I won’t allow myself to be stooped down that level,” She said with a murder-happy smile._

 

_“You won’t?” Lance repeated, gritting his teeth. “What the fuck? Am I not good enough for you anymore?”_

 

_“Not even close, McClain,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t date closeted little boys.”_

 

**_Click!_ **

 

_Lance whipped his head down his arm which was handcuffed to a skinny tree’s trunk. He gaped at the sight and pulled his wrist._

 

_He turned to her and said, “Kinky.”_

 

_Nyma grimaced. “Figures.”_

 

_She shoved her hand into his pockets and grabbed some packets and his car keys. Car keys!_

 

_“I’ll see you later,” Nyma said and then smirked. “Or not.”_

 

_The car revved up. The headlights were blaring, nearly blinding Lance. The then sped away, leaving away dust. Lance coughed and his eyes burned. Maybe it was from the dust. Maybe it was the blinding lights._

 

_Maybe it was the broken heart._

 

_._

_._

_._

 

_So, that’s how it felt._

 

_._

_._

_._

 

_Lance came out of the shower wearing his swim shorts. He had his goggles in one hand and a towel in the other. The other boys who were already done with their own showers were huddled by the pool. Their voices low and soft._

 

_“Hey, guys,” Lance greeted stopping by, fist bumping some of them._

 

_“Sup,” one said hesitantly. Lance recognized him as Carter._

 

_“So, broke up with Nyma, huh?” another boy asked. Heath Shea.“How come?”_

 

_Lance waved flippantly, trying to feel unaffected and then said, “Wasn’t working out.”_

 

_“Wasn’t working out?” Shea asked, “Was it not working out cause she got a pussy?”_

 

_“What are you talking about?” Lance said, frowning, “We broke up ‘cause she said I wasn’t good enough for her.”_

 

_“Or was it her who wasn’t good enough?” Shea asked, eyes looking at him up and down. “Dude, it’s okay to be gay and shit, but it’s not okay to shower with me butt-naked.”_

 

_Lance stayed quiet, fuming._

 

_Shea snarled and went up to his space, their noses were an inch apart. “Especially if we’re this close.”_

 

_“Dude, fess up and tell us,” Burke asked, crossing his arms._

 

_“There’s nothing to fess up,” Lance said petulantly, crossing his own arms tightly. “Nyma was a bitch and she didn’t like me as much as I thought she did, so we broke up. End of story.”_

 

_Shea laughed scornfully, “That’s sounds so fake.”_

 

_Lance shrugged, “It’s sounds fake cause you guys are grilling me. You’re putting me on a spot.”_

 

_Burke sighed, looking irritated, “Just admit you suck dick and we can put this all behind us, yeah?”_

 

_“I don’t care if you’re gay, man,” Jensen said, shaking his head. “It’s your life.”_

 

_Lance furrowed his eyebrows, “I won’t admit to what I’m not.”_

 

_“Give us a fucking break, McClain,” Shea sneered, staring at him with great contempt. “A hot chick breaks up with you for no reason?”_

 

_“Nyma told Rolo,” Burke said wryly, taking a step back as if Lance had Ebola. “Didn’t you see it in the team’s chat?”_

 

_“Don’t deny it,” Shea said, narrowing his eyes. “You’ve been checking Emerson out.”_

 

_Emerson squirmed, not looking at his eyes._

 

_“We can see the gay from a mile away,” Shea said mockingly. “I don’t care, but you’re not sucking my dick, that’s for sure.”_

 

_The boys laughed, huddling closer to him._

 

_“I’m not gay!” Lance said loudly, nearing to a yell. He gnashed his teeth, jaw clenched. “Even if I was gay, your dick is smaller than my finger. Get real, asshole.”_

 

_“Chill out,” Burke said, raising his hands placatingly._

 

_Lance whipped his head to him and snapped. “Don’t tell me to fucking chill out! He’s talking bullshit. I’m just trying to defend myself.”_

 

_Shea said, “Dude, I’m just saying the truth. No need to do go all hulk on us.”_

 

_“You’re talking crap in front of all of us,” Lance said, leaning to him dangerously glaring at him with a raging fire. “I’m not fucking gay, when are you going to get that in your thick skull?”_

 

_“McClain, relax,” Burke said. “Just say it, we don’t give a shit.”_

 

_“Have you been listening to what we’ve been talking about?” Lance gritted out, “He’s clearly jumping on my throat!”_

 

_“I’m saying it’s not fucking okay to be in a team where guys are constantly shirtless and wear skin tight shorts,” Shea said, “quit talking to us like some girl.”_

 

_“How many times do I have to say this? I’m not gay!” Lance said repeated. “Are you fucking retarded, or something?”_

 

_“Does anyone realize this?” Shea said, looking at everyone exasperatedly. “He obviously sucks cock. He probably fantasizes about licking our abs in the showers!”_

 

_“Shut up, Shea!” Lance yelled._

 

_He moved to him, pushing his shoulder roughly, “Don’t tell me to shut up when you shower next to me, checking out my ass!”_

 

_“Don’t be flattered, why don’t you just cut the shit?” Lance said, moving to him forward. “What about you? Check my ass out?”_

 

_Shea didn’t flinch. “As if! Fags like you sleep around, jumping on anyone who has something between their legs.”_

 

_Lance growled deeply in his throat, a vein popping._

 

_He smirked and then did obscene gesture: he pushed his tongue to his cheek and raised his hand, motioning it into his mouth. If anyone knew what that meant, it was a fucking dirty move._

 

_Lance pushed him, reaching for his throat. Shea retaliated, hitting his stomach. The boys started throwing hits, going on a rough brawl. Lance could feel hot blood pumping his veins. Something warm trickled down into his mouth. He tasted rusty iron on his tongue. He could see Shea’s own battered face. Other boys started trying to seperate them from the scuffle, but they only accomplished pushing the two of them into the pool._

 

_The boys continued to fight, throwing punches underwater. The liquid splashed harshly, Puddles forming around the floor that surrounded the pool. Lance inhaled amounts of the water, choking on chlorine. Red mixed with the clear water. Shea pushed him down, straddling him under the water. His head bounced on the tile floor. His oxygen going out in small bubbles. His eyes were going blurry. He scratched the hands that wrapped around his neck in a choke hold. His legs kicking the other boy’s abdomen._

 

_He felt his body go weak, hands limply floating in the water._

 

_And then, he blacked out._

 

_._

_._

_._

_._

 

Lance yawned, stretching his arms high up in the air. The joints of his back popped from the strain. He shut his laptop close, enjoying the freedom. He did not want to see another dreadful cursor on a blank document. He grabbed the mug of tea and took a sip, relishing the sweet taste. He felt his body warm all over in an instant.

 

He spun his chair away from the desk and got up. He walked out the room, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He padded to down the hallway, noticing the lack of a small child. He was probably hanging out with Keith again, Lance thought. When did they get so close?

 

Lance left his flat and went up the stairs that led to Keith’s. He didn’t care if he was wearing ratty old sweatpants with a hole on the knee, an orange-ish stain on his shirt and socks with his big toe sticking out. Lance was tired, so therefore he did not have any fucks to give at all in the morning. He only saved those for Christmas.

 

He rounded the corner to Keith’s until he stopped when he heard strumming echo into the hallway and then voices followed by. He peeked through the sliver of the doorway.

 

“Oh! Okay, I got it now,” Ari said, strumming the ukulele in his hands. “It sounds pretty.”

 

“That’s all on you, buddy,” Keith praised with a smile. “You put your feelings in it, so it makes it so much prettier. I don’t know, that is how I see it.”

 

“Have you ever written a song?” Ari asked, doing the puppy head tilt he did whenever he was curious. “You said you were in a band and you talk about the feelings behind songs a lot.”

 

“I taught myself how to play the guitar, so I basically learned by a series of trial and error,” Keith chuckled quietly, “Yeah, I’ve written songs.”

 

“Can you play me one?” Ari said with his puppy-dog eyes. “Pleeeease.”

 

“How can I say no when you make a face like that?” Keith said with a gruff voice. He gestured Ari to hand him the instrument and the boy did so. Keith adjusted the strings of the ukulele, he strummed it once, and then twice, making sure the chords came out right.

 

Ari looked at him with expectant eyes. Keith gave him a dull look, shaking his head. He breathed in and exhaled, and then stated [singing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CiSVCRHgN0M).

 

 _“Slow dance with you,_ ” Keith started, voice coming out fluidly. _“I just want to slow dance with you.”_

  
_“I know all the other girls are soft and smooth,”_ he sang, nimble fingers plucking the thin strings. “ _And I got the blues. I want to slow dance with you.”_

Lance bit his lip. He felt his chest constrict, heart dangerously palpitating. The sounds of _lub-dub_ skipping, trying to go in tune with the beat song.  

  
_“I want to slow dance with you,”_ Keith repeated, voice still leveled steadily. _“I just want to slow dance with you.”_

 

 _“Why don't you take the chance?”_ chords strumming in good tempo. _“I've got the moves I'd like to prove.”_

 _“I want to slow dance with you,”_ Keith ended, the song still echoing. He held the instrument close to his chest as if the poetry of the music resound in his heart, bending notes, and conveying out emotions through slight movements and rhythmic vibratos.

 

“I don’t use complicated metaphors to describe how I feel,” Keith said, thumping the ukulele, “Simplicity is sometimes the best way to put your point across. Metaphors sometimes confuses people, or makes it hard to convey the message, so I’d rather use a more direct approach.”

 

Ari nodded and grinned. “It’s such a pretty song.”

 

“Thanks,” Keith said, ruffling the boy’s hair. “It was for someone special.”

 

Lance’s body was on fire. He inwardly screamed and wanted to jump and down like a schoolgirl being noticed by her senpai. Keith indirectly serenaded him, which is totally on the list of his romantic grand gestures because, yes, Lance may be a realist, but he was a total hopeless romantic. _500 Days of Summer_ can go suck his dick. Love wasn’t dead, but it can dwindle and grow and change into something else.

 

Lance quietly retreated back into his apartment, giddiness making him smile until his face hurt. He walked with a bounce in his step, being too excited to walk like a normal person.

 

.

.

.

 

_“You want me to do what?”_

 

_Lance grinned, dropping his chin on Keith’s shoulder. He kissed his cheek affectionately. Keith grunted, embarrassed from the action. The guitar was on his lap, finger positioned expertly._

 

_“Serenade me~,” Lance sang, hugging him from behind me. “C’mon, give me a grand romantic gesture.”_

 

_“I’m no good at those,” Keith shook his head, pouting, “besides, I’m too embarrassed to do shit like that.”_

 

_“Aww,” Lance cooed, kissing his cheek again. “Well, I won’t push you. I just wanted my cute little Keith Urban to do something that might let my heart explode!”_

 

_“...Ugh.”_

 

_“Baaaaaaabe, I’m a romantic at heart! You should know this by now,” Lance said._

 

_Keith shook his head, turning his head to face him. “It’s still a bit too new for me? I mean, we used to hate each other. This change is kinda too drastic.”_

 

_“You’re right about that,” Lance snorted, “This is some rom-com level shit.”_

 

_“Oh God, please no,” Keith groaned, disgusted at the thought._

 

_“Geeeet fruuuustrateeeed with meeeee, Iron-maaaaaask~”_

 

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

Lance showered and put on his best-smelling cologne. He wore a dark navy jumper and a pair of dark-washed jeans. His hair was in its natural wavy state, going for the effortless-but-actually-not approach. He checked the time on the wall-clock. It was nearly noon and so he left to fetch Ari from his bedroom.

 

He knocked on the door gently and then called out, “Hey, cub! You ready yet?”

 

The door opened forcefully, nearly smashing his nose. Ari came out with a cartoon jupiter hoodie and cargo shorts, sporting the LED blinking light shoes.

 

“I’m ready!” Ari yelled.

 

Lance held his nose, almost feeling the slight sting. “Well, that’s good.”

 

The door knocked and Lance knew it was Keith. He felt his heart jump, making somersaults. It could win gold in the Olympics.

 

Lance went over and opened the door and had to stop the quickening pace of his pulse. Keith stood there. He had worn his familiar lip ring and a red flannel over his dark tank top. His legs were clad with ripped jeans.

 

“Te ves como si estuvieras sin hogar” Ari said bluntly. _You look as if you were homeless._

 

Lance cuffed the back of Ari’s head lightly. Ari let out a yelp, glaring at Lance. Keith a raised an eyebrow at the action.

 

“No seas grosero.” _Don’t be rude._

 

Keith shook his head, not even bothering to ask for a translation. It was most likely an insult. At this point, Keith has realized that Ari’s comebacks were just an endearing way to address Keith. The trio left the building and they opted to take the subway. One, Altea had the worst kind of traffic, two, Keith doesn’t own a car, and three, Lance was too cheap and lazy to use his own.

 

Keith took them into the art museum. Both of Ari’s hands were gripped by the two men. They went inside the place, passing through the large stone columns. The entrance was an intricately carved arch, it looked like stone vines curling around them, leaves poking out. Lance was amazed the amount of detail it was put on.

 

Ari let go of their hands, rushing into the throngs of other visitors. The men raced after him, eyes firmly locked on the dark tuft of hair. It was like following a baby duck through a raging ocean.

 

The two men heaved their breaths as they placed their hands on their knees. Ari was staring up at a large portrait of what looked like some old political figure. Ari looked him up and down, assessing the strokes and color-scheme like some critic.

 

Lance rolled his eyes at the young boy. Ari’s lower lip was jutted, eyes squinting.

 

“I think it’s boring,” he concluded, nodding his head. “Next!”

 

They went through a large statue of what might look like pieces of scrapped metal from a junkyard super-glued together. The trio tried to decipher any hidden meaning behind it, but ultimately gave up on it and decided to move to the next piece of artwork.

 

.

.

.

 

“Is she smiling?”

 

“No, she’s obviously not.”

 

“I think she’s looking she wants to scream, but keeping it in the inside.”

 

_“Let it gooo, let it goooooo~”_

 

“Oh my God.”

 

“Papa, not here _please_.”

 

.

.

.

 

“He looks constipated.”

 

“Well, I can’t argue with that.”

 

“He’s supposed to be angry,” Ari groaned, “not taking a poop.”

 

“Oh,” Lance said, nodding, and then turned to Keith. “You might need to take note on this. Put some deviation in you emotional range.”

 

“What!”

 

“Keith, sometimes I think if your face is really paralysed.”

 

.

.

.

 

“Why are the babies always so ugly in the medieval paintings?”

 

“Yeah, they look creepy.”

 

“They look like leering old men.”

 

“They look like Donald Trump voters.”

 

“They look like my grandfather’s double chin.”

 

Ari sighed and then piped up, “Actually, it’s called  homunculus. It means ‘Little Man’. So this goes back to religion! Philosophers thought that Jesus Christ was perfectly formed man, so when he was born, he came out like a grown-up already.”

 

“So why’d they stop making ugly babies?”

 

Once again, Ari explained like a history teacher, “during the renaissance, people’s values were everywhere. It was too narrow, so it limited a mass movement to a single pocket for variation—ooor like creativity, I guess. Medieval artists weren’t really into realism. They lacked interest in naturalism, but were more interested in expressions in graphic depiction, and so it made the babies look generally ugly all together because they lacked variation. The renaissance abandoned the idea of religion, and so which resulted to make the babies not born like adult, but rather to be seen as innocent. I've read it on a book before coming here.”

 

“Damn,” Lance said. “Thank God for the renaissance. We need actual angel-face kids like you, Ari. Not those who look like they need their prostate checked.”

 

.

.

.

 

“Yo no entiendo.”

 

“...me neither.”

 

.

.

.

 

“What exactly am I supposed to look at?”

 

“I don’t know. All I see is a blank wall.”

 

Ari gave them a flat look, pointing to a painting of a woman in red. “Because you are looking at a white wall, I’m looking at this one.”

 

.

.

.

 

“This is _modern art_?”

 

“Lance, you don’t need to shit on the artists.”

 

“I can literally replicate this in MS paint,” Lance pointed out, looking baffled. “I would earn millions.”

 

.

.

.

 

“I don’t know if that is a potato, or a dead worm.”

 

“Lance.”

 

“I’m just saying my opinion, Jesus Christ,” Lance huffed. “As if I graduated with a Fine Arts degree…”

 

.

.

.

 

“Hey! I like this one,” Lance said, pointing at it.

 

“There’s a sword shoved through her throat.”

 

“It reminds me of Monday mornings.”

 

“She is literally _impaling_ herself.”

 

“Mood.”

 

.

.

.

 

“That guy looks like he’s saying: _howdily doo didly do dah neighborino!_ ”

 

“Jesus Christ, Lance,” Keith said, shielding Ari’s eyes from the explicit painting.

 

“I’m just saying my opinion, geez.”

 

.

.

.

 

“There’s a tree sprouting out his stomach,” Lance commented. “I guess those kings can talk about why we don’t have monarchy anymore on that guy’s morning wood.”

 

“Please stop.”

 

.

.

.

 

“FART BUBBLES.”

 

“STOP.”

 

.

.

.

 

“George Washington?” Lance started.

 

“Lance, no—”

 

“Papa, don’t—”

 

“More like George Washing-Don’t.”

 

“UGHHHH.”

 

.

.

.

 

Lance sighed, and then wiped the sweat off his forehead. He’d been running around catching up with Ari’s sudden bouts of artistic interest. It made him realize that the small child wanted to learn more about his mother’s passion.

 

Keith must have noticed his wearied expression and told him to take a break. He would handle Ari alone for awhile. Lance protested, but his knees were killing and so he relented and took a breather.

 

He was sitting on a bench, his arms spread on the backrests. He closed his eyes, slipping into darkness until something jostled him awake.

 

“Sir,” someone said, poking him with a pen. “Will you please remove yourself from the artwork.”

 

“Honey, I am the artwork,” Lance said dumbly without thinking, blinking away the sleep in his eyes and then they widened when he processed the words. He jolted up from his seat. His head moved back and forth from the seat and the curator.

 

“Artwork? It’s just a dumb bench!”

 

The curator gasped, sounding very insulted. “Bench! That is a work of an very world-renowned artist, excuse me!”

 

“What a rip-off then,” Lance said, shaking his head. “He must be swimming in dollars, or something.”

 

“That is an insult to me and the whole art community!” she yelled, clutching her heart as if she was offended by the mere statement. “He is praised from every country! Continent!”

 

“Who the hell is the guy?”

 

She gasped once again, her glasses going wonky. “You don’t know!? **Blasphemy!** ”

 

“Just tell me,” Lance said impatiently.

 

“It’s the great **_Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe!_ ** ” the woman practically yelled out, her voice carried by the echoes of several hallways.

 

“I KNOW THAT DUDE.” Lance said, eyes widening like saucers. “I HAVE HIM ON SPEED-DIAL!”

 

The girl once again gasped.

 

And that was how Lance got her number.

 

.

.

.

 

At the end of the day, the trio were in an over-price ice cream parlor. Once again, Ari picked blueberry. Keith got cotton candy. Lance got a mix of three weird flavors. Ari and Keith looked at the combination with appalled faces.

 

“That is revolting,” Keith commented, eyeing the triple scoops. “What the heck is Choco Jalapeno?”

 

“The greatest flavor of all time,” Lance said, shoving the spoon into his awaiting mouth. “Mhm, delicioso!”

 

“Ew!” Ari said, scrunching his nose. “What is the point of having it spicy? Isn’t there a point of having the ‘ice’ in ‘ice cream’?

 

“Have some variety,” Lance said distantly, feeling an odd sense of deja vu playing in his mind. It felt like an echo of a memory. He waved the idea of, and then took another mouthful of the frozen delight.

 

.

.

.

 

The trio were back in Lance’s apartment. The room was shrouded in darkness, only the dim glow of the television were their light source. They were on the sofa, cushioned by several pillows. Fluffy blankets draped over their laps, their feet sticking out. Ari laid between them, his head resting on Lance’s shoulder.

 

On the screen, Lion King was playing. The screen currently displayed two best friends, Timon and Pumba following their friend who choose his love interest over them. This created tension and fear between the trio that was now down to two. .

 

“Ah, he’s asleep,” Lance whispered, hearing the soft snores from the small child. He petted his feathery hair, tendrils of it curling around his nimble fingers. Ari nestled into his body, seeking his warmth. “Cub, you awake?”

 

Ari hummed and then yawned. Keith chuckled at him. Lance hoisted Ari with his arms, tucking his head into the crook of his shoulder. He felt the small breaths puffing out of the boy. He went to Ari’s bedroom. He changed him into his pyjamas and it was impressive that Ari somehow wasn’t shook awake from it. He tucked the small boy in his bed. He kissed his forehead. He caressed his cheek gently, and whispered into his ear.

 

“Night, Cub.”

 

Lance retreated the room, shutting the lights off. He walked about to the living room and saw Keith watching the move intently, his chin propped by a knee. His ponytail slightly mussed and the flannel slipping off his pale shoulders.

 

Lance plopped down on the sofa, jostling Keith from his stupor. He whipped his head at him. Lance responded with an amused smirk.

 

“Enjoying the movie?” Lance said, nudging his shoulder. He shoved some popcorn into his mouth. “Didn’t know you were into Disney.”

 

“This is my first time seeing this,” Keith said with a shrug. “It’s interesting.”

 

Lance choked on a piece of popcorn. He thumped his chest.

 

Keith looked at him worriedly, rubbing his back.

 

“What the hell do you mean you haven’t seen _Lion King_?” Lance said, bewildered. His mouth agape. “What kind of childhood did you have?”

 

Keith shook his head. “Didn’t really have one.”

 

Lance winced and then apologized. “Oh...Um, sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” Keith smiled smallishly.

 

**_“I can see what's happening_ **

**_What?_ **

**_And they don't have a clue_ **

**_They'll fall in love and here's the bottom line - our trio's down to two._ **

**_Oh.”_ **

 

Lance’s eyes flickered back to the screen. _Of course this damn[song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=25QyCxVkXwQ) would play! _ , Lance screamed internally.

 

 ** _“Ze sweet caress of twilight,”_** Timone said in a mock-French accent. **_“There's magic everywhere, and with all this romantic atmosphere, disaster's in the air!”_**

 

_._

_._

_._

 

 _“This is so stupid,” Keith commented, eyeing the metal fence in front of him. A backpack was hitched on his shoulder. He stared at Lance with tentative eyes. Lance was looking at the pool that was on the other side. He was practically buzzing like a Chihuahua on crack. Lance grinned at Keith, his hands on his hips firmly like Hillary Clinton ready to make another inspiring speech. Keith sighed and repeated once again, “This is_ **_stupid_ ** _.”_

 

_“Where’s your sense of fun?” Lance said, appalled. “It’s stupid, but not a bad idea!”_

 

_“It’s definitely a bad idea!” Keith said, gesturing wildly. “We are going to get expelled.”_

 

_“Psh—Don’t worry!” Lance said and then grabbed the bag perched on his own shoulder. He threw it over the fence. It landed with thump on the other side. “There’s no security this time around, believe it or not, so like ‘Hakuna Matata’.”_

 

 _Keith’s phone beeped and he opened it up to see an image of Hunk and Pidge smirking cheekily with the text plastered over them that read:_ **_#YOLO_ **

 

_He gave him an unimpressed look. “Please don’t say—”_

 

_“—YOLO,” Lance quoted, his fingers forming into a hash-tag. “You only live once, Mami.”_

 

_“I told you not to call me that!” Keith groaned into his hand. Lance ignored him and started climbing over the fence. His every movement creaked from the wires and from every creak more of Keith’s nerves became frayed. Keith clenched his jaw and gritted out, “Lance!”_

 

_Lance was perched on the top of the fence, smiling impishly at the boy below him, eyes full of mirth. His hands were gripping the fence, legs swinging. He whistled a joyous tune, which only served to fuel Keith’s rage, and at the same worry of Lance falling off the damn thing, cracking his skull and soon Keith would live a Lance-less world. He couldn’t imagine something like to ever happen._

 

_“C’mon, Mamiiii~” Lance sang, his stupid butt teetering over the edge. “Let’s have some fun!”_

 

_Keith sighed and looked up to the Cuban boy resignedly. “Fine.”_

 

_Lance whooped and that resulted him letting go of his handles that steadied him. He landed unceremoniously on a bush._

 

_“Shit!” Keith yelled, running into the fence, gripping the wires. He searched the bush for any sign of Lance. “Are you still alive?!”_

 

_Lance’s head popped out of the bush. Twigs and leaves knotted in the his hair. Keith let out a breath of relief and slowed down his heart from its quickened tempo. Keith then followed him, climbing up the fence and landed onto the grass easily. Lance smirked at him, feeling very pleased and accomplished. Keith deadpanned at him and smack the backside of his head._

 

_“You nearly gave me a heart attack!” Keith scolded. “Stop doing shit that involves you potentially breaking your limbs!”_

 

_Lance pouted, “but you do the same things all the time, but like in a non-fun way.”_

 

_Keith buried his face into his hands. “This is so stupid.”_

 

_Lance ripped off his shirt and shoes. Keith as usual, ogled him, and yes, go judge him if you want. Lance was hot and Keith was not denying or complaining about it._

 

_Lance eyed his clothed body, raising an ungracious eyebrow. “You’re not taking your clothes off.”_

 

_“I’m not going to swim,” Keith solidly like an immovable rock. “It looks cold as fuck.”_

 

_“You are literally the human version of Grumpy Cat,” Lance said, flicking his nose. Keith recoiled from it. “Well, if you won’t...I guess I have to do this.”_

 

 _Lance scooped up Keith as if he weighed like nothing, which was by the way_ **Hot™.**

 

_“L-Lance, what the fu—Oh my God, stop!”_

 

_Lance ran to the pool and Keith held Lance in death grip. “Nononononononon—”_

 

_“Hold on tight, Mami!” Lance yelled._

 

_Keith screamed. “I AM GOING TO FUCKING CUT—”_

 

_Lance jumped into the pool, drowning Keith’s words. Rivulets of water splashing out of the pool._

 

_._

_._

_._

_._

 

**_“Can you feel the love tonight?_ **

**_The peace the evening brings_ **

**_The world, for once, in perfect harmony_ **

**_With all its living things”_ **

 

**_._ **

_._

_._

 

_Keith went up, gasping for air. Hair matted from his face, his arms flailing around. Lance followed up, laughing. His wet bangs clinging onto his forehead. Clothes sticking onto his skin like scotch-tape. His upbeat laughter shaking his frame._

 

_“Oh my God,” Lance gasped. “You look like a drowned cat!”_

 

_Keith frowned, face darkening. He pushed Lance down the pool. He then felt his body pulled back down into the water. He yelped when he was back underneath._

 

_Underwater, the boys stared at each other. Lance looking at him with mischievous eyes. Keith leveled with him with a glare. Their hair floating like kelp, limbs sprawled all over, feet kicking._

 

_The world was blue. The dim glow of the pool lights flashed through them. It was like space, moving fluidly and not being able to breathe._

 

_Lance smirked, which was so unfair because how can he smile in a ten-feet pool? They could literally drown. Speaking of drowning, Keith felt his lungs burning. Lance must have sensed this, he furrowed his eyebrows in alarm, but suddenly his face lit up as if an epiphany occured in his mind. He swam to Keith and mashed their lips together. Their mouths connected, puffs of air entering into their lungs, and then they floated up, emerging from the water._

 

_._

_._

_._

 

**_“So many things to tell her_ **

**_But how to make her see_ **

**_The truth about my past? Impossible!_ **

**_She'd turn away from me.”_ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

 

_The couple went up, mouths still connected and moved against each other frantically. It was like shitty water-ballet featuring dirty dancing and dirty thoughts.  Keith tasted chlorine from Lance’s mouth. Lance tasted gummy bears from Keith’s. Their teeth bumped into each other, noses smashed together. They were both breathing hard, lungs screaming for release, to have air enter them, but the boys did not listen to them. They had more pressing matters: Making out with each other senseless._

_._

_._

_._

**_“He's holding back, he's hiding_ **

**_But what, I can't decide_ **

**_Why won't he be the king I know he is_ **

**_The king I see inside?”_ **

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

_Keith’s hands roamed over Lance’s chest, fingers clenching and unclenching. His hands gliding over wet tanned skin. Lance’s hands explored underneath the black shirt Keith wore, slightly bother by the article of clothing. His fingers sprawled all over taunt muscles, dipping down deep crevices and scars. They both craved each other, to the point it hurt too much. The pain was like drowning, clogging up airways, filling every orifice, until you felt the alarms bells ringing. Like HOLY FUCK! I AM DYING. Love was addicting, enough to make you wild, enough to never look back because the pain felt so good._

 

_They both broke apart, staring at each other with wide eyes. Their breaths heavy. The blue glow of the pool highlighting their features. The pale moon above them, stars glinting brightly in the sky, and fireflies flying through the dark night._

 

_._

_._

_._

 

 

_**"Can you feel the love tonight?** _

_**The peace the evening brings** _

_**The world, for once, in perfect harmony** _

_**With all its living things."** _

 

Lance blushed at that particular scene. The song played into the quiet room, soft harmony filling every space. They were inches apart, their hands nearly touching. Lance glanced at Keith’s form, but caught on Keith’s gaze. He was looking back at him, eyes soft. Then his eyes trailed down to his mouth. The piercing glinting dangerously. Lance gulped and his eyes flickered back to the screen. The song replayed its chorus, Lance leaned in tentatively. 

_**"Can you feel the love tonight?"** _

The space between slowly growing smaller

_**"You needn't look too far."** _

Keith's eyes flickered down to Lance lips, he licked his own.

_**"Stealing through the night's uncertainties"** _

Lance gulped. He lifted Keith's chin. His thoughts moving in a whirlwind.

_**"Love is where they are"** _

Lance sighed through his nose. _No, not yet,_ he thought. Keith's eyes were still holding the small spark of hope in them, a small smile playing on his lips. It meant a lot of things, but it also meant what brought Lance to ease:  _I understand, take your time._

 

**_“And if he falls in love tonight_ **

**_It can be assumed.”_ **

 

He shook his head, and pulled away. Lance slumped into the seat, sinking into the sea of pillows. He tried to dismiss the fleeting thought of kissing Keith. He couldn’t. Things were going way too fast. He blew the bangs that was poking his eyes and slipped down on to Keith’s lap. He felt a hand resting on his head.

 

**_“His carefree days with us are history.”_ **

 

Lance closed his eyes and grabbed Keith’s other hand, intertwining their fingers together tightly. He felt the familiar calluses on them. He remembered those from fights, from playing guitar, and from kisses he placed on them.

 

Maybe...Lance did love him.

 

**_“In short, our pal is doomed.”_ **

 

Maybe.

.

.

.

 

_"Cause when you look like that. I've never ever wanted to be so bad, oh. It drives me wild. You're driving me wild, wild, wild."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave some kudos and a comment! it helps me out a lot :D
> 
> ALSO BEYONCE AS NALA? YES, PLEASE.  
> CHILDISH GAMBINO AS SIMBA? YEEES. PLEASE.
> 
> I love Lion King so much, i'm sorry lmao. <3


	14. Random Update #2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted on: December 31, 2017

Hello again! 

I heard updates are helpful for the readers to show that "wow, this chick isn't dead, cool beans."

I thought it would be a cool idea to update like every 5/6 chapters about my well-being and current situations. 

I've been re-editing and updating the story like a million times, so if you guys would re-read it some minor or major details have probably changed. I'm not a pro at this writing thing because this is a story that I take seriously (or i spend at least writing 4 hours on every chap, lmao.) and I think its cos I still have school coming up soon. I got some people telling me that I sound like 20-something year old, which might be a compliment? I am really younger than you think haha xD My birthday is in a few days!

I've read this post on my Tumblr about Ao3 writers who invest emotionally are talented, which made me cry for like a bit! I don't know if you guys did actually cry, but I guess that is an achievement unlocked. Some of the really good writers out here are so young! So kudos to you guys :D and I am bit proud at myself that I fit in that age group. I first started writing when I was like 10 which was about Kingdom Hearts lmao. (my roxamine/namixas shippers, you guys rule!)

A lot of events have transpired since then.

My grandmother died suddenly, so it was pretty hard since I knew her my entire life. My grandma had dementia, so basically lived the same day every single day, and I know that isn't easy for her and for me. I hope she found peace :)

I've met up with some old friends, which was pretty fun.

I delivered eulogy and I think I did pretty good on it. I brought some smiles. :D It was kinda like Lance's, recounting old memories. BTW, My grandma used to hit with my a broom XD Good times.

I need some good Klance in my system to get myself a bit happy, so you guys could rec me some stories in my Tumblr or just plain out talking. Honestly, I am lonely soul. :p

GAH! I'm so excited for the next chapters! :D There's a whole bunch of funny shit, heartfelt shit, and ANGSTY shit.

If there are any international peeps here, I need some help in some languages and cultural background/history like: French, Mandarin Chinese, and Russian! I need some Cuban cultural history lesson xD

English isn't my first language, but I think I am pretty good at it. Hit me up if you can in my Tumblr: dindorkenstein 

I'd like to thank my wonderful beta: galaxy-gayrisson


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life gets alternate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops! It's my birthday! :D
> 
> WELL, CHAPTER 15 SUCKED xD so here is I making a re-edit of this and the other chaps weeeee!
> 
> And for those who are wondering, I am 17 now! 
> 
> Also let's pretend I'm actually good at physics lmao. I've learned so much after this chapter xD Thank you wikipedia, google, and of course the internet.
> 
> I mostly read about causility and Edward Lorenz. :>
> 
> some inspo: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OgA1tArKnbE&t=10s
> 
> I would like to thank my wonderful and beautiful editor and BETA pal: [galaxy-gayrisson](https://galaxy-gayrrison.tumblr.com/)
> 
>    
> I would like to thank my friend, JoJo! :D thanks for the german, honey.
> 
> songs I listened to:
> 
> There's nothing holding me back - Shawn Mendes  
> Gone Gone Gone -Phillip Phillips  
> No Matter Where You Are - Us the Duo

Lance bounded the steps down the apartment to get his mail, but he was stopped by a familiar Dorito-shaped man who wore tight leggings that showcased his perky butt and strong muscles. He’d recognize those biceps anywhere. He stood still on the banister, frozen in shock. 

 

In front of the man was Keith, talking casually with him. He looked vaguely annoyed, but looked so comfortable with tall sexy man who could possibly break Lance’s skull with his thick thighs. Cardboard boxes were pooled around them. 

 

“Shiro?” Lance called out, raising an eyebrow.

 

The buff man turned around and he illegitimately looked he was on a Victoria Secret’s commercial. Shiro widened his eyes, a smile growing in his face. He crossed his arms over his bulging chest and damn, oh boy, hot damn.

 

“Lance!” Shiro said happily, “I didn’t know you lived here.”

 

“Lance?” Keith said confusedly, then turned to his brother. “Shiro?”

 

“Keith?” Lance said.

 

Lance whipped his head from Keith to Shiro, head spinning because holy crap, this is his work crush and ex-boyfriend in one setting. This was not good, be still his poor heart. 

 

“Yes,” Lance croaked out, embarrassed of his own voice. He cleared his throat. “Yes, I do live here.”

 

Keith furrowed his eyebrows, noticing the sudden awkward nature of the Cuban man. 

 

Lance gave them a tight smiled, “I didn’t know you knew each other.”

 

“Know each other?” Shiro said, bemused and then chuckled. “We’re brothers!”

 

“Bro...brothers?” Lance repeated dumbly and then eyed the similarities. They didn’t look much the same besides...nevermind, this was getting too racist, even for Lance. “You told me your brother’s name was Takashi.”

 

“I am Takashi,” Shiro said like talking to a child. “Takashi Shirogane.”

 

“And I thought I was smart for knowing your name meant white,” Lance grumbled, clearly disgruntled by the revelation.

 

“I don’t really call him Takashi,” Keith said, waving offhandedly. “Shiro is a childhood nickname that just stuck.”

 

“I would have never guessed,” Lance said without thinking. “Say where’s your apartment number?”

 

“202,” Shiro answered pleasantly, hitching some kind of work-out machine. Lance shamelessly checked out his plump ass as they bounded up the stairs. Keith gave him a narrowed dirty look. Lance shrugged in response.

 

When they arrived at the door, Shio dropped the box he carried by his foot and then knocked. There was a large bang from the other, sounding like someone dropping a kitchen appliance perhaps. The three of them jumped out of the door. The door creaked open until it stopped into a thin slit. Only two wide eyes were seen behind the door, the rest was enveloped in darkness.

 

“Wer ist da?” the disembodied voice spoke, staring down the three men. “Gehörst du zur Regierung?”

 

Shiro opened his mouth to say, “I am–”

 

“Wie gesagt, sie haben mir nie etwas gesagt, diese verdammten Russen!”

 

The trio blinked once and then twice. Shiro scratched the back of his head. “We’re not Russians.”

 

“Was willst du von mir, du dummer Amerikaner,” said the voice.

 

“My name is Takashi,” Shiro introduced, gesturing to himself. “I called you about the apartment?”

 

The voice remained silent.

 

“You’re Dr. Slav?” Shiro asked, the end of his voice slightly going high. 

 

“Ja,” the man who was presumably Dr. Slav said. “Hast du nich gelesen, dass du Deutsch sprechen musst? Es stand fettgedruckt in times new roman, Schriftgröße zwanzig.”

 

Hunk and Pidge arrived with Ari holding Hunk’s hand. Hunk rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “Sorry, we were buying the new Star Wars legos…”

 

Pidge popped out a bubble from their mint bubblegum. “Worth it.”

 

The three newcomers came up to the group. Pidge raised an eyebrow at the mess of boxes around the hallway. It was getting cramped from the lack of space. 

 

The voice hissed, “Du hast verstärkung mitgebracht!”

 

Lance answered tentatively, “oui?”

 

“Dummkopf,” The voice muttered.

 

“Dr. Slav!” Ari scolded, “that’s not very nice to say!”

 

The group blinked. They whipped their head to the young boy who was pouting. 

 

“Aristotle,” Slave said, “...you know these strange men?”

 

“Yeah!” Ari said, crossing his arms. “You’re being so rude to them, not even showing your face!”

 

Ari slipped in the small space, the door closed with a slam.

 

“I lost my son to the dark side,” Lance said.

 

There were muffled voices behind the door. Ari sounded placating while the other seemed like on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The voices were slowing turning soft, and with that, it ended with a click of a door to reveal Ari and eccentric-looking man who had badly dyed green hair.

 

The man stood awkwardly next to the young grinning boy. He had green polo tucked in his khaki pants, which were stained with some kind of substance. He had an ill-fitting lab coat, four different pens sticking out from the pocket. Round goggles on their face with large blinking eyes with tiny pupils. There was a dark five o’clock shadow on his face. Small clumps of hair sticking out. It looked what a cat would like if it went through a bad grooming job. He wore mismatching socks, and two different shoes. One was a formal oxford while the other was a dirty sneaker. The sneaker must have been white at some point, but slowly turned into a yellowish pale color. 

 

“Yes?” Slav said bashfully, a complete one-eighty of the angry german he spoke. 

 

“Alright, let’s start over,” Shiro said, lifting his hand up for a shake. “I’m Takashi Shiro--”

 

“I know,” Slav said, “I went back and checked my calculations. I understand what you said. I understand what you said the entire time. I only panicked because there was a probability of 0.0002% you being likely a government agent. I don’t take chances on something as close to that to this reality, so I must apologize. My calculations were incorrect.”

Slav sighed, and narrowed his eyes at them.

“I knew america is dangerous! Everything can kill me. Back in germany, even a bat is illegal to wield.”

Hunk, Pidge, and Lance looked at Ari pointedly who ignored their stares.

“Yep!” Ari said, he raised a finger on the air, “there was a probability. If you measured it through it through Einstein’s law. Causality shouldn't be confused be Newton’s second law. Space and time are not absolute. It is only a rough estimation. Well, I think!”

“How do you know all this?” Lance asked, rubbing his temples, trying to fight off the headache.

“Dr. Slav taught me!” Ari said proudly, “What do you think I’m doing when you’re not home?”

“Oh my God,” Lance groaned.

Pidge lifted her glasses, their mind running. “Interesting.”

The rest of the group stared at them and then to Lance. He merely shrugged. 

“I just roll with it and indulge him,” Lance said.

 

Slav stood awkwardly examining the group. “If a rocket was moving to the top at first, then turns to create a 45 degree angle and activates it throttle, would the rocket’s trajectory match its where the rocket is pointing after a while?”

 

“What?” Shiro asked, dumbfounded.

 

“You mentioned in your information that you are a pilot, yes?”

 

“Well, yes,” Shiro said, raising an eyebrow and thought for moment. He then answered, “Do limits count? As burn time approaches infinity, the rocket’s trajectory will approach it’s direction of thrust. For any finite burn time the trajectory will not match it’s direction of thrust, but can get arbitrarily close?”

 

“Was that a question?” Slav said, leaning dangerously close to Shiro.

 

Shiro glanced at Hunk and Pidge. They both nodded, raising a thumbs up.

 

“No, I’m sure,” Shiro said firmly.

 

Slav looked at him for a moment and then said, “Correct.”

 

“Star Wars, or Star Trek?” Slav asked. 

 

The group suddenly felt a sense of import on them. They whipped their head to Shiro, awaiting his answer as if he were about to say the world’s deepest secret.

 

Shiro swallowed the lump in his throat. “Well, it depends. Over the orginals to the next generation, I would chooses Star Trek. If you disregard the first three episodes of Star Wars and Kylo Ren, I would choose Star Wars.”

 

Slav seemed to consider this and then nodded. “Correct.”

 

Shiro smiled in relief.

 

“You’ve passed the first barrier to roommate-hood,” Slav declared, he moved the door, gesturing for them to go. “You may now enter to my humble abode.”

 

“Well, this is nice,” Lance commented. 

 

The apartment looked bare. It was a similar replica of his own, except there weren’t any homey decorations and a sofa. Instead there were two lawn chairs in the middle. A flat screen TV with numerous stacks of Doctor Who. Jumbles of some sort of science contraptions were on the far end of the room, next to the window. There was a coffee table that had numerous scribbles on them. It looked vaguely like equations. Lance couldn’t tell from the horrid handwriting. Large whiteboards were hung on the wall. There were several diagrams drawn on them. Large numbers beside them. There was barely any white space left. On the counter there were large heap of buns.

 

Lance couldn’t help himself. “You got some buns, hon?”

 

The group groaned. 

 

Slav seem to not understand the innuendo. “Which ones do you want? The light ones , half corn, ciabatta, with poppy or sunflower seeds?”

 

“ Does your anaconda still don't want none?” said Pidge.

 

Shiro clapped his hands together. “Bedrooms are down the hall, right?”

 

“That depends,” Slav said.

 

“I don’t understand,” Shiro said, smile still in place. “Is their existence conditional?”

 

“No, but your ability to perceive them is conditional when you pass the next two barriers.”

 

“There’s three?” Shiro said, dry as a desert. 

 

“Each more daunting than the last.”

 

Shiro sighed, “Let’s have it then.”

 

“Have a seat,” Slav said.

 

Shiro walked towards the lawn chair. As he was about to sit, Slav pulled his arm away. “No! that is where I sit.”

 

Shiro sighed in frustration, “What is the difference?”

 

“This seat is ideally located both in relation of the heat source in the winter and the breeze in the summer,” he points to the television. “It also faces the television in a direct angle that allows me immerse myself in entertainment or gameplay without being subjected to the outside world and its dangers.”

 

“And?” Shiro asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“It has resulted in me having the state of eternal dibs,” Slav concluded and then sat down on the chair. 

 

“Can you do that?” Shiro asked gruffly. “Doesn’t seem like a reliable theory or law.”

 

“Wer nicht kommt zur rechten Zeit, Der kriegt das was übrig bleibt,” Slav said. 

 

Shiro looked at the group.

 

Believe it or not, Ari was the one who piped up.

 

“I’m not sure if my German is good, but it roughly means ‘who comes to late gets what's left’,” Ari translated. “or...um... it's his chair, his rules.”

 

Shiro nodded, “Fair enough.”

 

The group opted to stand away, finding this interaction amusing and entertaining like a segment in the Tonight Show with Conan.

 

“Your study is astrophysics?” Slav asked, suddenly witch clipboard in his hand.

 

Shiro seemed to perk up from this question, “Actually, I am more in space exploration and teaching, so astrophysics is a given.”

 

“Hm,” Slav said monotonously, writing something down on his clipboard.

 

Shiro leaned into it. “What is that?”

 

Slav moved it away from his sight. “Doesn’t concern you.”

 

Slav asked another question. “So you will go to the garrison everyday?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You have a vehicle?”

 

“Well, a car, yes,”

 

“You will be willing to drive me?”

 

Shiro paused, “Yes, but can you drive?”

 

It took a moment for Slav to answer. “Yes, but I choose not to. There is a probability of me getting a vehicular accident, so in the possibility of you leading us to one, you will be in responsibility to pay for insurance.”

 

“Okay? I suppose I could drive you,” Shiro said tentatively and then gave a small grin. “That’s a point in my favor, right?”

 

“Why don’t you let me ask the questions?” Slav said, continuing to take down his notes.

 

“I was just asking…” 

 

Slav looked at him and then frowned. “I am the owner of this apartment currently.”

 

Shiro slumped into his chair. 

 

Slav cleared his throat. “In an alternate universe, you are a paladin of Voltron––”

 

Ari hitched a breath.

 

“––And you were to be tasked to make a prison break in a Galran fleet what would you do?”

 

“Well, I would free the prisoners. My paladins can take the information. I think I would most suitable in combat and strategy, assuming I would be the leader.”

 

“Correct,” Slav said, “I wouldn’t be opposed to you finding information, but things will change if you ended up leaving the prisoners to their deaths.”

 

“Well, nice!” Shiro said, feeling accomplished. “I passed the barriers.”

 

“You passed the second barrier,” Slav interjected and then added after a beat. “Don’t get cocky.”

  
  


.

.

.

  
  


Lance invited Slav for dinner, or technically, Ari did. Lance was a polite guy, so he just went with it. He liked cooking for people, believe it or not. It was something that happened a lot back when he lived with his parents. They invited neighbors all the time, cramp them all in their house. It was always chaotic, but the guests would return to their homes with big smiles.

 

Lance doesn’t like the silence. Maybe that’s why Danny had lots of kids. Whenever Lance visited, it reminded him of his childhood. Danny never really had aspirations like Nessie did, but he was more of a family-man. Delilah was the same, always dreaming to have kids. One of the reasons why she became an art teacher.

 

.

.

.

 

_ “Look at this!” Delilah bounced out from her chair, joining Lance on the window seat.There was a slight bump on her stomach. She was about four months in. The baby would be the size of an avocado. _

 

_ Lance looked up from his phone. “What is it?” _

 

_ Delilah had a bunch of papers stacked on the coffee table. There were children’s drawing. There was a stamp of smiley face on some of them. Delilah’s trademark. _

 

_ “This one is so cute!” she gushed, shoving the paper to him. It was a picture of stick-figure family. There were flowers surrounding them and a simple home in the background. _

 

_ “Aw, that is pretty cute,” Lance commenting, grabbing the paper. He tapped his finger on the mother figure. “You’re going to be her soon.” _

 

_ Delilah giggled, a bright smile in place. “I know! Isn’t it exciting?” _

 

_ “Sure is,” Lance said with a laugh, he patted the swollen belly. “I’m going to be the best uncle. Hands down.” _

 

_ “Maybeeeee,” she said in a singsong voice, she rubbed the bump. “Gah! I can’t wait. I want to see them already!” _

 

_ “You’re acting pretty good today,” Lance said, looking up and down. “Not cranky or anything.” _

 

_ “I don’t know, I didn’t feel sick,” she shrugged. “Maybe those drawings the kids made lifted my spirits.” _

 

_. Delilah listened to the sound of a key turning the doorknob and a subtle click eagerly. The familiar sound of someone struggling their shoes off signified someone had arrived. Mike, Lance thought as he watched his sister’s enthusiastic expression. _

 

_ Mike called her name through the hallway, name soft and inviting. Delilah was scrambling out the window seat with an excitement of a puppy greeting its master at the end of the day. She met Mike halfway, throwing her arms tight around his middle, pressing her cheek against his chest and feeling the warmth and vibration of his laughter. His chin at top of her head, the gesture is familiar and heartwarming to see. _

 

_ “Hi,” Mike said, pecking her lips swiftly. He was smiling. It was easy-going and a slight quirk of his lips, a sliver of crooked teeth. His cheeks were red from the cold. Delilah was undoing his scarf, placing haphazardly on the sofa. Mike looked up from her, noticing Lance. He smiled wider.  _

 

_ “Hey, I didn’t know you were here,” Mike said, his hand resting against Delilah’s hip.  _

 

_ “Your wife invited me,” Lance drawled, opting to sound dull. “She missed me apparently.” _

 

_ She stuck her tongue out at him in response. _

 

_ “It’s good see you again,” Mike said. “You staying for dinner?” _

 

_ “I wouldn’t be opposed to,” Lance said. _

 

_ “Forehead, of course you’re staying!” Delilah exclaimed, untangling herself from her husband’s arms. “You’re going to help me out and we’re going to talk about what’s going with your life.” _

 

_ “Hm, well, let’s get to it then.” _

 

_. _

_. _

_. _

 

“What I am proposing,” Slav said, “is that the laws of physics are such that causality violation is subject to a form of control, one that prevents manipulating history. Instead of causality violation creating an alternate universe, one version of history is outright overwritten by another. One past is replaced with another future, which means that the memories of the past of the people in that future are replaced with memories of a different past, present, and perhaps the future. These restrictions are consistent with the grounded belief that causal influences cannot travel faster than the speed of light or backwards in time.”

 

“But in quantum field theory, observables of events with a spacelike relationship. The ‘elsewhere’, have to commute, so the order of observations or measurements of such observables do not impact each other,” Pidge said, very interested in the conversation. “That is something to look at.”

 

Lance nodded, twirling his fork.

 

“Then there’s the chaos theory,” Pidge said, eyes twinkling. “Or the butterfly effect. Small variations of the initial condition of a nonlinear dynamical system may create large variations in the long term. The butterfly effect is to see it as highlighting the difference between the application of the notion of causality in physics and a more general use of causality.”

 

Slav nodded, impressed, and then said,“In Newton’s physics, in general, applying the INUS conditions are taken into account, that are both necessary and sufficient. For instance, when a butterfly is starting from a point of unstable equilibrium, then its velocity is assumed to be caused by the force of gravity accelerating it; the small flutter that was needed to set it into motion is not explicitly dealt with as a cause.

 

“In order to be a physical cause there must be a certain proportionality with the next effect. A distinction is drawn between triggering and causation of the the wings’ motion. By the same token the butterfly can be seen as triggering a tornado, its cause being assumed to be seated in the atmospherical energies already present beforehand, rather than in the movements of a butterfly.”

 

Lance smiled, “I feel smarter already.”

 

Lance doesn’t know much about probability and alternate universes. Lance knew physics, studied them, so he managed to understand with what they said. In short, simple things can affect the future greatly. In a bigger view, space and time really are important through the existence of wormholes.

 

When you are up there, feeling infinite space, the earth looks like a fragile planet against the wide universe. Humans are just another fleeting intelligent species, passing by. There was life elsewhere, and we are not alone. The sky is tragically beautiful like the rain, it was a graveyard of stars. Lance was not arrogant enough to think of different billion galaxies and ten million in the universe that humans are not the only ones in life, no, not at all, but people are the only things that like to shoving things in their asses. Take a look at Kim Kardashian, which Lance did end up saying out loud. 

 

“Immaturity really is your attractive quality,” Pidge said dryer than Keith’s skin. He really needed invest in some skin care.

 

“Why, thank you!” Lance said, fluttering his long lashes, “It was either that or to get my hair highlighted, but sarcasm is easier to maintain.”

 

They continued to eat the dumplings Lance made. Hunk was immensely impressed with it. Lance gave him a smile, pretending to wipe a tear. 

 

“It is a bit salty,” Hunk commented, taking a bite.

 

“I made it with my tears,” Lance said. 

 

Ari was quiet during the rest of the meal, until he piped up, a curious expression on his face. “Can I ask a question?”

 

Slav smiled, nodding. “Ja, mein Freund.”  _ Yes, my friend. _

 

Ari glanced at Lance, licking his lips.

 

“Gibt es... ein…. Paralell Universum,” Ari paused, thinking. His voice was tentative. “...in dem meine Eltern noch leben?”

 

Lance didn’t understand German, but he knew from the surprised look on Slav’s face that it was a heavy question, something that even a scientist can’t answer.

 

Slav hummed, thinking. He tapped his fingers on the wooden table. Ari awaited his reply patiently, blue eyes trained on him.

 

“There are infinite possibilities and that there is probably at least one,” Slav said.

 

Ari side-eyed Lance, licking his lips. “Could you make a device to visit those realities? I could help.”

 

Slav sighed, looking at the boy with sad eyes, almost like he was afraid to answer him, “Even if you would find the one you should not get lost in other realities but focus at the one you're living in.”

 

The ensuing silence was a thick one, but Ari manage to crack a smile

 

“Yes, I think you’re right,” Ari said, and then yawned. “I’m sleepy.”

 

“Go to bed,” Lance said, “I’ll clean the dishes.”

 

“Okaaaaaay~” Ari said, hopping out of his chair to his room.

  
  


.

.

.

 

The group left, but Slav could return to his home, Lance placed a hand on his shoulder. Slav turned his head, eyes expectant.

 

“What did Ari say?” Lance asked, clenching his fist. “I’ve been thinking about it for awhile.”

 

Slav sighed, rubbing his eyes. “He asked if his parents were alive in an alternate reality.”

 

“Wir können das Universum nicht erklären, sondern nur beschreiben; und wir wissen nicht, ob unsere Theorien wahr sind, wir wissen nur, dass sie nich falsch sind,” Slav said, and then widened his eyes, realizing he was speaking German. “Er–I can't explain the universe, just describe it. I don’t know if my theories are true, I just know they are not wrong.”

 

Lance nodded and then asked, “Is that true? There’s a reality to them being alive? ”

 

Slav gave him a melancholic smile, patting his hand. “In answer to the question of why it happened, I offer the modest proposal that our universe is simply one of those things which happen from time to time. There’s a chance. All I can say is that each nanosecond of history branches off into an infinite amount of parallel universes.”

 

“Well, thank you,” Lance said, “you’re a nice man, Slav.”

 

“Likewise,” Slav said. 

  
  


.

.

.

  
  


Lance turned the corner that led to coffee shop. It was a crappy-hipster place. It was next to a university. It was smart business move. There was place like that in every college campus. It was Lance’s old job back then. For five hours and three days a week, Lance poured hot water over crushed organic, shade-grown, and bitter beans so that the slovenly paced caffeine-addicted college students who regularly drag their bodies for they daily fix while nursing the precious belief of supporting small farms from Ethiopia.

 

Lance passed through the glass door, suddenly hit with the smell of Vanilla and coffee beans. There were the usual students typing away in their laptops, notes next to them and black coffee.

 

His eyes searched of his sister and there it landed on the back end of the store. There sat his youngest sister. She was sporting her blue headband, beige turtleneck with dark wash overalls. Her face was rid of makeup, opting for a natural beauty. Lance didn’t disagree on that. Margot was a really pretty girl. She was edging to the cuter side rather than his sisters. Nessie had this authoritative sexy kind of way while Delilah was just beautiful. Lance didn’t know if that made sense, his sisters in general were really blessed with good genetics.

 

“Lance,” Margot waved, next to her was blonde girl.

 

Lance took a seat, smile in place. “Maggot, been awhile, huh?”

 

“Maggot?” the blonde repeated, confusion and amusement dancing in her grey eyes.

 

“It’s just a nickname,” Margot said, blushing. “This is my brother, Lance.”

 

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” the blonde said, grinning. She raised a hand, Lance accepted and then they shook. “My name’s Greta.” 

 

“Oh boy, is this the girl you’ve been crushing on since forever?” Lance said, teasing Margot.

 

“You didn’t need to say that!” Margot exclaimed, slapping her cheeks, embarrassed. 

 

“It’s okay, babe.” Greta giggled, pecking her cheek. “I’m flattered.”

 

“I hope you used my pick-up lines,” Lance said with a wink.

 

“As if!” Margot said, “those are such a turn-offs.”

 

Lance shrugged, and then said, “it worked on me.”

 

“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” Margot said, and then took a sip of her coffee. 

 

“Thanks, sweet cheeks,” Lance said, “How’s life so far?”

 

“Pretty okay so far,” Margot said with shrug. “I’ve been studying here and there. I don’t know if I’ve ever gotten enough sleep.”

 

“Med school sounds like a nightmare,” Lance said, grimacing. “Props to you, little sister.”

 

“I’m twenty three,” Margot said, “I’m young, but I’m not little.”

 

“In my eyes, you’re forever seven-years-old,” Lance said with a grin. “What about you, Greta? Got something going on?”

 

She perked up on his question. “Yeah, I’m studying nursing. I’m doing some rounds in a general hospital.”

 

“You two seem like a good pair,” Lance said, propping his pointy chin on a fist, “a doctor and a nurse.”

 

“It is cute,” Greta said with a nod. “You got something in your love life?”

 

“Oh boy, this should be interesting,” Margot said, leaning towards him with a excited twinkle in her eye.

 

“Not much,” Lance said, “I’ve been busy taking care of my son and balancing a full-time job at that.”

 

“Oh right! Mags did tell me you have a kid,” Greta said, grinning. “I love kids! I’d like to meet him if that’s okay?”

 

“Of course,” Lance said, chuckling. “He’s turning eight soon, I’ll invite you to celebrate.”

 

“Got any pictures?”

 

“I do,” Lance said, grabbing his phone and searched for pictures of his son. “Here.”

 

“Aw! He’s adorable,” she commented, cooing. “He has your eyes.”

 

Lance blinked, and glanced at Margot. She gave him a tight smile. Greta seemed oblivious to the sudden tension. 

 

Lance cleared his throat, and gave a polite smile. “Actually, he has his mother’s eyes.”

  
  


.

.

.

 

_ “Can I move now?” Lance asked, feeling his arms cramping.  _

 

_ “Wait a bit, Forehead,” Delilah said, hand moving against the sketchboard. Charcoal pressed on paper. Her eyes flickered to him and to the paper. Smudges of black on her fingers and cheeks. Her hair was loosely tied up into a messy bun, the butterfly pin securing it. _

 

_ Lance sighed. His back was arched, and Lance could feel his spine begging to be straightened.  _

 

_ “There!” Delilah said, blowing the paper. She turned the sketch around, revealing a realistic picture of him.  _

 

_ Lance grabbed it from her hands, careful to not smudge anything. _

 

_ His eyes were the only ones that had color. A light blue on them. The rest of the sketch were etched with dark charcoal. Shadows dipping on curves and crevices. Delilah even managed to get the fading scar on his chin.  _

 

_ On the far right corner had her signature and the date.  _

 

_ “This is fantastic,” Lance said, awestruck. “Lala, you’re so good at this. You’ve definitely gotten better.” _

 

_ Delilah smirked, “of course I did! I’ve been drawing for years.” _

 

_ “Yeah, but this is really good,” Lance said.  _

 

_ “Thanks,” she said, standing up from her seat. She bent down to grab the towel on the sofa, wiping her fingers. _

 

_ “You look so big now,” Lance said, eyeing the large bump on her middle. “How long are you at?” _

 

_ “Seven months,” She said with a smile, rubbing the bump. “God, this is surreal isn’t it?” _

 

_ “You’re going to be a good mom,” Lance reassured her. “I always knew.” _

 

_ She smiled gratefully, and she looked down. A curtain of sun bleached hair fell. The golden tips were curling around her shoulder. _

 

_ “I’m so excited to meet you, Ari,” Delilah said, rubbing the bump tenderly. _

  
  


_. _

_. _

_. _

  
  


Lance had the sketchbook on his lap, flipping through worn pages. Each page was a different image, details carefully placed. Some of them were just doodles or works in progresses. There were images of Mama cooking breakfast, Dad on his arm chair, Margot and Connor laughing, Dee wearing her white dress, Danny and Camila playing with their kids, and Nessie peacefully sleeping on the porch.

 

There was Lance’s sketch. 

 

It was the last one she drew.

 

Lance didn’t have the power to flip to the next one, knowing there was only blank one was behind his own face. He closed the book, sighing. On the cover was an array of butterflies and flowers. Delilah’s name in cursive. He could feel the burn behind his eyes, the wetness on the rim of them.

 

Maybe Slav was right about alternate universes. There could be at least one with Delilah alive and happy. A world were Ari had his parents. It comforted Lance, but it was such a weird thought now. Not having Ari by his side, not having him as a son. It was a selfish thought. 

 

In some other world, they would be standing side by side, laughing, but in this world they were apart.

 

Just as he was about to put the book away, his phone rang suddenly, jarring him from his thoughts. He accidentally dropped the book. Lance scrambled to get it, and then he paused when he noticed a very unfamiliar picture.

 

It was crayon drawing of three figures. 

 

It was a family. 

 

Not any family, but it was Delilah, Mike, and Ari. 

 

There were butterflies surround them, a small house in the corner. 

 

Lance flipped the next page. 

 

There was a lanky figure holding a smaller one’s hand.

 

That’s him. That’s Lance and Ari. 

 

Lance flipped the next page. 

 

Yellow and green. Hunk and Pidge.

 

Lance flipped the next page. 

 

Shay.

 

Lance flipped the next page. 

 

Allura, Matt, and Alfor.

 

Lance flipped the next page. 

 

Shiro.

 

Lance flipped the next page. 

 

“I’d recognize the Mullet anywhere,” Lance chuckled, grinning at the drawing. 

 

Keith.

 

Alternate universes, huh.

 

That is a good thought.

  
  


.

.

.

  
  


_ “A human being is part of the whole called by us ‘the universe,’ a part limited in time and space.  He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings, as something separate from the rest – a kind of optical delusion of consciousness.  This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and affection of a few persons nearest to us.  Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of understanding and compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.” ~ Albert Einstein _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's pretend I'm smart and clever. xD
> 
> Leaves some kudos and a comment. :D
> 
> The more feedback I get, the faster I write and upload chapters. ;)
> 
> translations:
> 
> -who's there  
> \- are you the government?  
> -i told you they never told me anything, damn Russians!  
> -what do you want from me you foolish americans  
> -must speak german to be room mate (in short)  
> -you brought reinforcements!  
> -stupid head  
> 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life gets free
> 
> .  
> .  
> .
> 
> Acceptance doesn't mean resignation; it means understanding that something is what it is and that there's got to be a way through it.   
> ~Michael J. Fox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm running out of words for the summaries lmao xD
> 
> Also, this was a pretty fun chapter write actually. There's a festival coming soon and I've been in them at least twice in my life. Both times were fun! :)
> 
> Hm, not sure if this chapter was a good one, but again, there's always room for some fixes hehe.
> 
> ALSO, I changed Ari's age from 5 to 7/8! I think it's a more plausible age lmao. 
> 
> I would like to thank my wonderful and beautiful editor and BETA pal: [galaxy-gayrisson](https://galaxy-gayrrison.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> Song I listened to:
> 
> Supermarket Flowers - Ed Sheeran  
> The Sound - The 1975  
> Born This Way - Lady Gaga  
> I Like Me Better - Lauv

Here's the deal with Lance.

 

He has never been the smartest of people. Part of that, he knows, was due to the never ending list of talents that all of his family members possessed. It seemed as if every single one of them is special, clever. They’re all uniquely brilliant.

 

Lance used to come home with C’s, D’s and the occasional F. His parents were strict on him, yes, but they never called him dumb. They sighed a bit, rolled their eyes, and pat him on the back.

 

His family was everyone’s dream. Picturesque like the stock photos that comes with picture frames. Lance kinda thought living it was pretty tough. Maybe because he can see people’s flaws. Maybe it was cause they put too much pressure on him. Maybe cause he grew up knowing his siblings’ weaknesses. Hell, Lance could have been a therapist if he really did try.

 

But back to the point, Lance was a simple guy.

 

Ari was...not so simple.

 

For instance, Ari was smart, but also wild, full of exciting facts about planets and stars and black holes. He soaks up knowledge like a sponge and spouts facts to anyone with a pair of ears. He was on his way to speak multiple languages languages fluently, besides Spanish and English.

 

It was hard to keep up with him. Yeah, Ari was smart, but he was too smart. He had gotten comments about how fast Ari could process things. He understood things even adults couldn’t. It was admirable, but hard for the two of them to meet in the middle.

 

Lance was Ari’s dad. He was kind, but he had his flaws, that much was clear. People sometimes said Lance looked dead . He had his ups and downs, but his disadvantages did not define him and all that he had encompassed. He was charmingly self-deprecating. He hung year-round Christmas lights at work. He watched Voltron. He didn’t give a shit if Keith was Good or Bad… something he still debated.

Lance _loved_ Keith. But those feelings were resurfacing quicker than he could even process. It scares him. Things were moving way too fast, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

 

Keith had changed for the better this time. Lance was proud of him, he really was.

 

Lance loved him, but he hated him. His feelings were ambivalent to him at this point.

 

Ari used to hate him, but things have changed. Lance didn’t really know what happened between the two of them, but it brought a bit of relief in him. He couldn’t let anyone in his life unless they had Ari’s stamp of approval.

 

He was going to have to make amends with that Mullet. Maybe not now, or later, but it was inevitable.

 

Lance used to hate him for about a year until they actually went on a date. He took him out to coffee, out of good-naturedness, and admitted that he liked him. Lance was so happy.

 

But they’ve broken up way too many times, which was why Lance was hesitant. Why he wanted to take it slow. It was like a balancing act, he was teetering over the edge with two feet. One wrong move, he would fall, and if he went any further, the line dipped, so he was taking it slow. The faster he walked, the greater the pain would be when he fell...

 

And we all know how easy it was for Lance to fall in love. It was like he loved getting his heart broken.

 

Lance was working to strike the balance between holding on to a loved one, or to a child. Lance wanted to move on and re-discover fun. It was probably why he was falling very quickly to Keith. The way he acted brought Lance the prospect of being in a better place.

 

Lance considered parenthood as a privilege. Ari was his dream-come-true, his fairytale happily ever after. And if the universe was to abide by his rules, it would've been the end of his story. No prince, no romance, no thanks. But the universe was sporadic, so of course not.

 

Lance has this fun mind game in his head where he asks the question: _When is the universe going to fuck me over?_

 

There was a wandering ghost of the past drifting in a world that refused to discuss grief, or let him in on the deaths that affected him so seismically. Lance was traumatized and, maybe, Ari was too in a way. The trauma of being a bereaved child amid the conspiracy of silence would go on to shape the rest of his life.

 

[So](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tS4wc-9pvLk).

 

This happened.

 

_“I think you should keep your boy in a leash,” the woman sneered, walking away with a sobbing child._

 

_Ari was quiet next to him, rubbing his eyes. There were streaks of tears on his puffy, red cheeks. There were scratch marks on his arms,  a bandage on his chin. His hair was ruffled._

 

_Ari was in a fight._

 

_“Mijo,” Lance crouched down to his level. He licked his lips, trying to tread the topic lightly. “Can you tell me what happened?”_

 

_“I don’t want to talk about it,” Ari said gruffly, pouting._

 

_“Okay,” Lance said patiently. He sighed and grabbed Ari’s backpack from him._

 

_They’re in the car._

 

_It’s raining._

 

_It’s always raining here, Lance thought, sooner or later the city is going to drown like Atlantis. They passed through buildings. The pipes looked like overflowing arteries. The lightning spreading like thick veins. Dark grey clouds overcast. The road was slick and wet. Lance fidgeted in his seat. Ari flinched every time another bout of thunderstruck._

 

_“Wet out tonight,” Lance said, giving a small smile to the boy next to him. “Just let me concentrate on the road, yeah?”_

 

_Ari was still silent._

 

_Thunder crackled. The sound reverberated in their rib cages. Like it was trying to jumpstart their hearts._

 

_“Can you tell me now?” Lance asked when they were parked right out of their apartment building._

 

_There was an ensuing silence, one that was thick enough to be cut with a knife._

 

_“They said you’re not my real dad,” Ari said quietly, so softly that Lance had to take a moment to catch it._

 

_“Well, I think––”_

 

_“Does it matter?” Ari snapped, jaw clenched. “Papa, you’re my real dad.”_

 

_“Ari, I think they mean––”_

 

_“You mean Mike is my dad?” Ari said, eyes glazed. “Papa, he’s dead. I don’t know him.”_

 

_“Ari, he is your dad, okay?” Lance said, gripping the wheel. “Mike is your dad.”_

 

_“So I’m not your son?” Ari said. The words slammed into his soul like a ton of bricks. “Am I, Papa? Should I even call you that?”_

 

_“Ari…” Lance started, he could feel the prick behind his eyes. “You can’t understand what exactly happened.”_

 

_Ari’s parents died but nobody had really explained it to him. In those days, it was in the interests of protecting him from the pain, and Lance thought he was protecting him by not talking about it, by not telling him._

 

_In an effort to relieve the suffering, Lance had severed all links of anything about the accident, as if it could erase the difficult territory of losing someone. Overnight, Lance lost his sister and brother. Ari lost his parents. Lance knew how close to the edge you can be as grieving._

 

_Grief never gets better._

 

_But for Ari, how can you grieve for someone when you hadn’t ever met them? Does it still get better?_

 

_Lance had this very happy persona – a false self, a mask. There were a lot of lonely tears at night. Lance felt very isolated._

 

_He knew Ari didn't care much for his parents, but he tried. Lance loved him for it, but he could feel his heart breaking whenever Ari talked about it and feel detached. Ari did wish he could meet his parents because people talk about them a lot, about how good people were so easily taken away from them. They said it with soft voices and pitying eyes._

 

_If discussing their deaths was taboo before, multiply that by ten and you get an idea of how people react when you say you've lost both parents. Ari just didn’t know what to do with that information._

 

_“I know that my parents are dead, Papa,” Ari said, sniffing. “Why don’t you ever talk about it? They’re strangers to me, and I want to know about them. Everyday when I say goodbye to them, I always wonder why I do it. Who are these people? Who are they to me?”_

 

_There was a myth that children who lost their parents before they knew them are fine – because it was pain you can't see. Lance didn’t believe in it. He wanted to give Ari enough time to take it in. He wanted to make sure he was given the space to grieve over time, at least a chance to process it, to absorb the reality of it at a more profound level._

 

_Orphans were expected to just get on with their grief quietly, to have got over it. It was not like Ari knew Delilah and Mike, right?_

 

_“Why can’t I have a mom?” Ari said, biting his lips. “Everyone has a mom. How come I can’t have one? It’s so unfair!”_

 

_He swallowed the lump in his throat, he looked at Ari with glazed eyes and noticed that Ari was crying too. Yes, Lance knew Ari wanted a mom so badly, but how can he? Was there someone out there who could replace Delilah?_

 

 _“My classmates keep telling me stories about their moms,” Ari said, “They keep telling me that their moms are so amazing and then they ask me_ **_‘What’s your mom like, Ari?’_ ** _.”_

 

_Lance did not understand what it felt like to be an orphan but he imagined it was like being the only tree left standing in a forest. It was as if the roots have been chopped away. Delilah and Mike were the reason why Ari was here. It was why Lance was still here. He had a purpose. To live._

 

_Ari was the stable point during his life, a constant. Lance was an adult and can stand alone, but there are times where he still needed Delilah and Mike, those times have made him feel very alone._

 

_Ari was an orphan, but he was not alone. He has Lance, but he was not Ari’ parents._

 

_Lance kept quiet._

 

_“I don’t know what to say,” Ari said. “What happened to my mom? Who is she?”_

 

_Lance took a shaky breath. “We weren’t supposed to talk about this…not yet.”_

 

_“Please tell me.”_

 

_Lance wiped the tears of his face, and said, “Your parents were the best people I knew in my life. Your dad like to read books and he wore glasses. Your mom loved drawing and painting. Those pictures in the living room? Your mom made them. Those books in the shelves were your dad’s. Ari you look like your dad, but you have Delilah’s spitting image. You have your mom’s eyes. The way you understand things and process quickly were probably from Mike. Your dad loved history just like you. He loved to memorized speeches like you. The way you smile was from your mom. She had the most beautiful smile. Your mom loved being around family, she was the happiest when she did. You know what? She was always happy because you were always right beside her.”_

 

_Lance sucked in a breath when he saw Ari’s mouth open, eyes wide. “There is so much more about your parents, Ari. They were the best you could have ever asked for.”_

 

_Lance sighed, and cleared his throat._

 

_“Your parents were in a car accident,” Lance croaked out, “It was raining. They were in a important meeting that night. Mike...Your dad tried to save your mom from a truck. He...died when the car got hit.”_

 

_Ari’s eyes were getting bloodshot._

 

_“Delilah...Your mom. She survived the crash, but she… she saved you, Ari, okay?” Lance said, hugging Ari. “Your mom saved you because you could have died too. They wanted to have you, wanted to be there for you, but they wanted you to live, so don’t ever think your parents are just strangers.”_

 

_Here is something about heartbreak: you never get over it. Don’t get too surprised. It's a fact. You get through it, yes, and you will probably get used to it, but you don't get over it. A piece of your life’s jigsaw has been removed and, however much you rearrange the other pieces, they never quite fit in the same way again. That's not necessarily a bad thing._

 

_For Lance, it made complete sense that everything changed. He had learned to accept it that death happened to everyone. Changed happened. The world doesn’t stop for anyone._

 

_Delilah and Mike’s deaths was still a heavy weight on Lance’s shoulders. It affected him, and so it affected Ari._

 

_Maybe it was irresponsibility, maybe Lance was just too blinded by grief, or maybe he was just... dumb._

 

_But in the end, Delilah and Mike deserved to be grieved over._

 

_They deserved to be missed._

 

_They deserved to have their kid be sad for them._

 

_Because they never had the chance to see him take his first breath, to cradle him in their arms, and to see him grow up._

 

_They deserve it._

 

 _So Ari did get to be sad when he saw kids play with their_ **_‘complete’_ ** _family. He got to be sad when moms picked up his classmates from school. He got to be sad when mother’s day comes and he didn’t have a card to make. He got to be sad when there’ was no one to give the card to._

 

_And Ari got jealous. Lance understood it cause he was a child and he wanted things that he couldn’t have._

 

_Parents weren't just some kind of toy you couldn’t get for your birthday._

 

_Grief could do strange things to you. An emotion that often reared its head in envy. It was not something to be proud of, but it was there all the same. It usually burned slowly, but increased slightly in certain situations._

 

_“Ari, your parents are dead and no one can change that,” Lance said bluntly, but he couldn’t filter himself right now because Ari deserved to know it without any barriers. Sweeteners such as ‘Mum's in heaven’, ‘She's still looking down on you, still looking after you’ or ‘God takes the good’, are still forced on to kids as a way ease the trauma. These are pretty useless to children because all they want is mom and no amount of sugar-coated words is going to stop that. Knowing Delilah was not on a damn cloud, was something Ari had to understand._

 

_You wanted someone to acknowledge that she was not at home making you cookies._

_“I know you feel like you aren’t anyone’s son. It’s not true, not even a little bit. You’re still their kid. You will always will be. And they'll always be your parents. Delilah will always be my sister, and Mike will always be a brother to me.  I carry them with me each day and so do you. You will always have your parents, okay?”_

 

_“Papa, I know you don’t like talking about this,” Ari said through his tears. “I’m so sorry.”_

 

_“Ari, you deserved to know,” Lance said, hugging him tenderly. “I should be the one saying sorry for not telling you.”_

 

_“I got mad.”_

 

_“It’s okay to be mad.”_

 

_“No, I’m not mad about that.” Ari sighed, fiddling with ends of Lance’s shirt.“We were talking about what to do for Christmas this year and someone said they’d give up his parents for a bunch of stupid toys.”_

 

_Ari planted his face into Lance’s shoulder. “I got mad. I told them about having fun with you, but they said you weren’t even my real dad.”_

 

_“Ari…”_

 

_“I’d give up a year of my life for just half a day with my parents, even for at least a second.”_

 

_“Ari, don’t listen to them,” Lance said, “They’re just kids. They’re not as mature as you are, so just don’t take it too personally.”_

 

_The car was quiet once again until Ari broke it._

 

_“I wanna meet Mama,” Ari said, looking up to him with his big blue eyes. “Can I meet her?”_

 

_“When you’re older, you can meet her,” Lance said, affectionately carding his fingers through his hair. “It’s just...Papa isn’t ready to see Mama yet. Just give me time, Ari. Can you wait for a bit for Papa?”_

 

_Ari nodded, “okay, I’ll wait for you, Papa.”_

 

_“Thank you, Mijo.”_

 

_“I love you, Papa,” Ari said. Something fluttered in Lance’s stomach. “Am I still your son?”_

 

_“Of course you are!” Lance laughed, giving him a wet smooch. “I love you so much, Ari. Thank you for being in my life.”_

 

_Thank you for keeping him alive, Delilah._

 

_._

_._

_._

 

“Don’t you think you’re moving a bit too fast?” Pidge said from their seat. Ari was next to them, answering math problems. He was chewing on the pencil’s eraser.

 

“Too fast?” Lance said looking up from his computer.

 

“I mean… About this Keith thing?” Pidge said, taking a peek at Ari’s paper. “No, you have to square it first.”

 

Ari nodded, erasing his solution.

 

“And what about this ‘Keith Thing’?” Lance asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Lance, we’ve talked about this,” Pidge said, rubbing eyes. “It’s college all over again.”

 

“You’re the one who told me to break up with him,” Lance said, accusatory.

 

“I gave you a choice,” Pidge said icily, but then their faces fell, crumpled onto itself, eyes lowered. “Lance, I... it wasn’t... It’s just that neither of you could see what I was seeing...”

 

Lance sighed, patting their arm. “I know, I’m just confused with what I’m feeling. I didn’t even imagine anything was wrong before, but I was... really forcing him down in the relationship, I guess. I don’t think it was fair for the both of us.”

 

Pidge blinked and looked up at him, face still crestfallen. “That’s not exactly how I would put it, but... yeah I... you’re not wrong. I think it’s cause I’ve only seen it through you, never really thought much on what Keith felt.”

 

“This is why I’m giving him a chance,” Lance said, wanting to bang his head on the table. “Keith was never in a good place back then, and now that he’s trying… I’m willing to give him a shot.”

 

“But like, you didn’t even know half of it,” Pidge says suddenly. Something in her tone was desperate, needy. “He was so attached to you and so emotionally dependent on you”

 

“You think I don’t know that?” Lance said.

 

“You’re not any different,” Pidge said, pointing at him with a pencil. “You bottle everything up and shove it deep down until it literally just explodes from the pressure. It took me forever to figure you out. It’s like your happiness was only Keith, and that wasn’t healthy. When Keith wasn’t around, you weren’t happy. You were either borderline anxious, or you wonder what he’s been doing. I don’t want your world to revolve around Keith.”

 

Pidge sighed and then they eyed the young boy next to them. They went into their laptop and typed something out. Lance saw a notification pop out from his screen.

 

**Fr: Pidge Holt**

**To: Lance McClain**

 

_So, when you stopped being happy, even when he was with you, it was just too fucking much and I’d hoped you would have realized it and snap out of it. You never realized how fucking toxic your relationship was. I was so happy you got out of it._

 

_I’m not saying Keith is a bad guy. He just had a lot going on while he had you around. In fact, I’m glad he’s here. Even Ari seems to like him (somewhat) BUT! I am still hesitant with you pursuing a relationship with him. You just say yes to whatever he asked because you were so scared of losing him. And now it’s happening again._

 

_I’m just thinking this could be one big misunderstanding. You are Keith’s first real relationship, hell, maybe he’s yours too. Now you’re going to start making a romantic relationship with him again and you haven’t dated anyone seriously else besides Keith since then. You’re confused whether it’s love you feel or just the remnants of it. Maybe it’s yearning. Maybe it’s obsession._

 

_Fact is that you are not the only who felt like this, Lance. Everyone gets into this kind of situation at least once._

 

Lance looked up from the screen.

 

Pidge looked at him with expectant eyes.

 

“Ari, can you go to room for a moment?” Lance said, smiling. “I need to talk to Pidge for a bit.”

 

Ari shrugged, grabbed things, and then left the two alone.

 

“Yearning, yeah that’s true,” Lance said, stretching his fingers. “I had all these kinds of people around me, and I knew I was popular, but it was different with Keith. No one can be like Keith.”

 

“Obsession?” Lance said with a laugh. “Hm, I guess...I am obsessed with him. There was the rivalry, there was the cigarettes and then there was Keith in general. Keith had no one except me, and I was in love with that idea, but now I’m just hoping he’s making good relationships now.”

 

“Do you love him?” Pidge asked. The question hangs in the air.

 

“I hated him, and then I loved him...What comes next?” Lance shrugged.

 

Pidge asked again, “Do you love him?”

 

“Do I?” Lance asked, and then repeats once again only for himself. _Do I?_

 

“Maybe,” he said.

 

And that was the truth.

 

The heavy rain stopped from outside, turning into a light drizzle. Lance let out a small smile. “Heartbreak does end like the rain.”

 

.

.

.

 

_Lance had his arm around Keith, his body close to him. Their skin was sticky with glitter paint and sweat. Keith was wearing a blank tank top with holes on it, he had ripped jeans on, and he traded his boots with a pair of beat-up converse shoes. He kinda looked homeless, but even Keith can somehow pull off hobo-chic._

 

_Lance’s hair was electric blue when the light hits, it matched his eyes. He had a white shirt on with colorful paint splattered all over it. The music played loudly, people jumping and grinding against each other. There was someone with long purple hair dancing with stilettos. Two women were kissing each other tenderly. There was a naked man wearing a crazy hat and Keith blushed from the sight––looking away. The hat looked like a flamingo, which Lance thought was funny._

 

_There was another man with a hollister body. He was dressed as an angel._

 

_The energy was high. It was filled with something emotional, something like extreme happiness. The energy felt festive, unique even. Lance couldn’t place it. It felt empowering to walk alongside Keith. The positivity crackling in the air like electricity and it was absolutely fabulous._

 

_“How does it feel, Keithy-boy,” Lance said into his ear._

 

_“It’s wild,” Keith said, looking around. “It’s been two hours, I’ve already seen a lot of tits, but it’s cool.”_

 

_A BDSM float passed by. People were cheering._

 

_Lance laughed, bringing him closer. “Well, I’ve seen a grandpa wearing a thong.”_

 

_“Congratulations?” Keith said with a raised eyebrow._

 

_The parade stopped, music growing louder, and then there was a flash dance. There was drag queens wearing intricate and beautiful outfits. Many joined in.._

 

_Lance beamed and yelled out, “Yas, Queen! Get it!”_

 

_Lance turned back to Keith who was holding back a grin, “What are you thinking about?”_

 

_"Everybody’s just in a good mood,” Keith commented, “It’s amazing.”_

 

_“Hm, describe this day in three words, no less,” Lance said, something draping over them. It was a pride flag._

 

_Keith, this time, breaks out the grin. His sharp teeth in full display, and Lance’s heart clenched at the sight of it._

 

_"True unconditional love,” Keith said, looking up when confetti was thrown in the air. The sunlight hit the shiny paper. There were rainbow colours on Keith’s face. His long lashes are shown when he closed his eyes._

 

_Lance grabbed his face, kissing his cheek with a wet smack. Lance continued to kiss him, on his eyes, on his nose, on the corners of his lips, and then finally on the mouth. Keith was laughing, pushing him away, but Lance was adamant, and so he kissed his arm, his hands, fingers. Everything._

 

_He pulled away and saw the prettiest sight he’s seen._

 

**_Pretty._ **

 

_._

_._

_._

 

_McClain women were strong._

 

_They had this clenched jaw, icy eyes, and silver tongue. Maybe it was from Dad, but honestly, it was totally from Mama._

 

_Nessie was more on the quiet side of things like a viper, ready to take a calculated aim. Margot was more controlled, more passive, but definitely not a pushover. Delilah, well…_

 

_She used to get cat-called a lot, which is probably something would be expected by now. Delilah  was pretty, had a good figure, and she was a woman, right?_

 

_She had been called sexy and many  vulgar things that no one should heard. They saw her walking with her short summer dress,  tanned skin and the thin fabric of her clothes. It’s like she was asking for it right?_

 

_Wrong._

 

_“Hey, Mami,” some boy said._

 

_Delilah turned her head, away from her conversation with Lance._

 

_“Nice tits,” the boy leered._

 

_Delilah smiled, flipping her hair to the side. “Thanks, hon. They costed a fortune!”_

 

_And that was how the boobjob rumor started circulated. Delilah didn’t give a shit, why should she? She was annoyed, but she never acted upon things beyond her control. People were already objectifying her. She didn’t need other people’s words to define her. If she knew what her worth was, then wasn’t that the only thing that mattered? Her friends knew who she was and so did her family._

 

_But other times Delilah just snapped._

 

_Some boy took pictures of her, numerous times, without her permission. She should feel flattered, but nope, it was just plain creepy. No one  disrespected Delilah McClain. She slapped that camera away, smashing it into a million pieces, and gave him the look because McClain women were strong and fierce women._

 

_Don’t give her the excuse of being a good subject because Delilah was a person, not some juicy gossip._

 

_“My dad is a cop and I can hail an entire police force on your ass,” she said, jaw clenched and eyes fiery._

 

_Delilah didn’t take shit like that._

 

_Which was something Lance was so immensely jealous of. Lance probably had a bad case of atelophobia, the fear of imperfection. Lance liked to pretend he was brave, pretended he had everything under control. Pidge was right, he kept all his insecurities in a tightly sealed bottle and waited for it to explode from the pressure._

 

_Lance scared himself sometimes. He was happy and he was carefree, a lovable idiot. But things changed when teachers called his parents about his depressing poems, lack of motivation, lack of a drive, and lack of a future._

 

_And when Heath Shea fucking suffocated him to unconsciousness for being gay, of course Lance was going to freak out._

 

_Lance woke up in the hospital because he inhaled too much water, it filled his lungs and he had drowned. Something Lance never thought could happen to him, but it did. He felt so much shame. His parents didn’t know the whole story, so they sent him home a few days later._

 

_He got a text from a team member telling him he made it to Captain._

 

_Lance wanted to laugh. Jesus Christ. After a fight like that? Especially with the gay rumor floating around, he was pretty sure Emerson would have gotten it, maybe Shea too, but Lance? No way!_

 

_It was pretty incredible how no one in his family had noticed it by now especially since Delilah was still in the same school as him… oh right, she was in that Senior Camp trip. She was going to lose her shit when she found out._

 

_Days past, becoming a blur. Like being underwater. He had been floating aimlessly, letting the current carry him._

 

_Lance did not know when he got home, but he was sitting on his bed, feeling emotionless and numb because Lance just felt as if his feelings just got sucked away. He hadn’t eaten in three days and people have been talking about it more so than ever._

 

_He had been avoiding Hunk and Pidge despite their insistence. He didn’t need them to know that he was going to blow any second._

 

_To put it simply, Lance was depressed._

 

_He was sure he had been holding that in for years now. Lance smiled because he didn’t what else to do. He listened to people. He talked to people. No one asked Lance how was his day was ever since that time he broke down in tears and locked himself in the bathroom. Lance liked to suffer quietly and give them a chagrined smile, charmingly loathing himself._

 

_Lance goes to chat rooms on the internet because at least no one knew him there. No one knew who he really was. He can cry under his covers and just spill his secrets to some random stranger._

 

_Lance didn’t have his phone because he probably left it in his locker. He didn’t know._

 

_It was not until his sister barged into his room with an angry shade of red to her face that his trance was broken._

 

_“You think you can keep that to yourself?” she asked, standing in front of him, her hair from a ponytail slipping out. “Why haven’t you told us?”_

 

_“Danny knew,” Lance said._

 

_“Not that, why haven’t you told us about you getting yourself almost killed?” Delilah said, seething. “I don’t care about you being gay or not, but I have a problem when that involves you getting choked by some dumb jock.”_

 

_“Lala, it’s nothing…”_

 

_“You’re right that it’s nothing! There’s nothing wrong about liking boys or girls,” she said, plopping down in front of him. “Tell me who it was and they’re going to be receiving the end of my bat.”_

 

_“You’re blowing things out of proportion,” Lance said._

 

_“And you’re dismissing things with that sad attitude of yours,” Delilah said, “You have the right to get angry or sad. You don’t have to pretend especially to me.”_

 

_“You just have it so easy!” Lance said, voice cracking. “You’re not afraid to call out to people. You’re not afraid of being you! You’re perfect!”_

 

_“No one is perfect,” Delilah said, resting a hand on his knee. “I am just like you. I’m afraid of what people think of me… because it affects all of you.”_

 

_“How?”_

 

_“How does it feel to be the brother of a whore like me?” Delilah said with a smirk. “Not good?”_

 

_“But you’re not…”_

 

_“And see? You know who I am,” Delilah said. “Do I look like I’m ashamed of you?”_

 

_“No,” Lance said tentatively. “You don’t…”_

 

_“Because I know who you are,” Delilah said, rubbing his knee. “People’s opinion do not matter if you know who you are. Those disgusting words do not define you. This image they have painted, this state they reduced you to is not who you are. I know who you are, little brother.”_

 

_Lance kept quiet._

 

_“Do you want me tell you who you are?”_

 

_Lance nodded slowly._

 

_“Well, first of all, let’s state the obvious,” Delilah said with a giggle. “You’re my brother and that’s already awesome.”_

 

_Lance snorted._

 

_“You like garlic knots. You love telling people advice because you know the right words to say. You help out with chores even though you pretend to hate them. I know you secretly love doing them, you neatfreak.”_

 

_Lance punched her shoulder lightly. “Quit exposing me.”_

 

_“I’m only saying the truth,” Delilah said with soft eyes. “I’m jealous of you,”_

 

_Lance was so shocked that he just sat there, mouth hanging open unattractively. Delilah watched him, like she was waiting for an explosion or any reaction at all, but when nothing was coming out, she said, “Lance? Can you say something?”_

 

_“Why me?” he asked abruptly, his voice low, barely a whisper. “Out of all the people in the world, I am the last person you should be jealous of. There’s nothing to be jealous of. I haven’t done anything worth envying. I’m just–– I’m just me, Lala.”_

 

_This time, Delilah was the one who looks disbelieving. She leaned closer, doe eyes wide. “It’s not what you’ve done, Lance. It’s who you are, what you’re like. Look, I like who I am, and I wouldn’t change it for the world, but I can’t help but wish that things were a little easier for me. I don’t make friends easily, little brother.”_

 

_“Really?”_

 

_“I’m too pushy and I don’t care enough about who people think I am,” Delilah explained. “You, though. You care more than anyone else in the world, and that’s why you’re the first person I will always be jealous of.”_

 

_Lance was left speechless. This wasn’t something he ever envisioned happening, having someone like Delilah tell him that they wished they were more like him. This stuff never happened, not even in in his daydreams. It was completely incomprehensible to hear it coming out from her mouth. Delilah, brave, clever, amazing, and beautiful Delilah, was jealous of him._

 

_“You have these friends who would be there for you,” Delilah said smiling. “I know I won’t even see at least a fourth of my class. I don’t think I’ll even stay in contact with my friends when I leave for college. Yeah, bitchy move, right?”_

 

_“Don’t think like that,” Lance said. “You have great friends…”_

 

_“C’mon, little brother. You three have this ridiculous friendship that transcends all boundaries.” She sounded a little annoyed, but maybe it was just being the older sister thing. “From the minute you met them on the very first day in school and beyond that, you’ve both been glued at the hip. I don’t think it’s fair you’re ignoring them.”_

 

_Lance contemplated on this and then said, “I should call them.”_

 

_“You should, they care about you and they’re worried,” Delilah said firmly and then added, “Also...Love has no gender, okay? Take whoever loves you in your heart. Regret is when you don’t fill that emptiness.”_

 

_Lance kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Lala.”_

 

_._

_._

_._

 

Lance drove to Ari’s school because he actually finished work on time for once. He was immensely proud of himself. He, quite literally, patted himself on his shoulder. He was all smiles when he wandered into the school Ari goes to, which was a pretty cute one. It was all good vibes and rainbows.

 

Ari’s school was a nice yellow-brick building with painted murals of flowers, clouds, and a smiling sun. It was like a child’s colouring book plastered on the its stony walls, posing as the paper. Lance usually liked to pick Ari from school because of the aesthetic, but now he hadn’t been able to. The windows were decorated with stickers of butterflies and small woodland creatures. The pathway was lined with colourful flora. The playground was situated on the front of the sunny building, healthy green grass sprinkled with dewy drops surrounded the area. There was a tree with a tire swing that reminded Lance’s of his own childhood, remembering Delilah’s small but strong hands pushing him, his older siblings fighting over Pokemon trading cards and his younger ones playing in the sandbox. It was good nostalgia. It was a good school.

 

He waltzed in Ari’s class, which was ocean-themed. There was handmade paper cut-outs of multicolored fishes,  shiny tin foil as scales. The room was filled with murals of marine life,  a large window that let in a healthy amount of natural sunlight into the room. There’s a list cork board that displayed all of the children’s birthdays. Ari’s name was on it and it was fast approaching.

 

“Oh, hello!” someone said behind,  a light voice, sounding nice to Lance’s ears.

 

Lance turned around and quite literally saw ocean. There’s a woman with wide blinking eyes. Her eyes were a startling shade sea-green. Her hair was styled with twin braids, the ends dipped with turquoise. The dress she wore was patterned with seashells. It looked good against her dark skin. There were freckles scattered all over her body, and most prevalently on her cheeks. A little mermaid bandage on her knee, which was adorable.

 

Lance had seen a million of pretty girls in his life and this woman might have been the prettiest he’s ever saw. AND he had met Allura for quiznak’s sake.

 

“Ah, are you a parent?” she asked, smiling brightly. There was a gap between her front teeth. So cute. “The kids are outside in the back, I could call whoever you’re looking for?”

 

“That...Uh,” Lance said stupidly. It had been awhile since he had been utterly dumbstruck by a person’s beauty. “I-I…”

 

“That’s a bit hard to gauge,” she giggled, her fingers going up to cage her lips. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen you here before?”

 

“I’m a parent,” Lance blurted out finally, “I’m Lance McClain.”

 

The woman eyes lit up, a grin splitting her face. “Ah! McClain? You’re must be Ari’s father.”

 

“Yes,” Lance said, straightening his back. “I’m Ari’s dad.”

 

“You have a very smart little boy,” She said, and raised a hand. “I’m Plaxum.”

 

Lance shook it. “Well, I share the same sentiments, I’ve never seen you here before.”

 

“Well, you see, I’m new!” She laughed, scratching the back of her head. “The other teacher had to have a maternity leave, and yeah, here I am!”

 

Her voice was loud and not the annoying kind. She was full of high spirits, a bright and bubbly personality.

 

“Usually, I see Shay coming around to pick Ari up,” Plaxum explained. “He told me she’s not his mother, so I’ve been quite curious to see Ari’s parents.”

 

“I’m not married,” Lance said. _Wait, what the hell?_

 

“Oh!” Plaxum said surprised. “Well, I’m sorry for assuming.”

 

“It’s fine,” Lance said with a small smile. “I get that a lot. People always misconcept me and Shay as a couple. She’s my best friend’s girlfriend and works around this area.”

 

“Explains a lot,” she said. “Well, do you want me to go fetch Ari…?”

 

“Oh, yeah!” Lance said, chuckling. “It’s a surprise for him. He doesn’t know I’m picking him up today.”

 

“Aw!” Plaxum gushed, hopping a bit. “Sorry! That’s just so cute. I’m sure he’s going to be so happy.”

 

“I hope so,” Lance said, grinning.

 

Plaxum led him out the classroom. They walk side by side in the hallway, conversing pleasantly. It was a breath of fresh air or maybe it was the breeze from the open windows. Plaxum looked beautiful from the afternoon sun hitting her.

 

“What made you go for teaching?” Lance asked, genuinely curious.

 

“Well, you see, I was a political science major,” she said laughing.

 

“Whoa, that seems a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?”

 

“Indeed!” she said ducking her head, sounding a bit embarrassed. “I guess it’s just I like kids. I wanted to be a good influence? Education is the best way to go. You know...Sartre? I was pretty influenced on him.”

 

“Being and Nothingness?” Lance said.

 

“It did me good. Especially in solidifying my freedom and my own values. And the rigorousness of the commitments. I agree with it,” Plaxum said with a hum. “I think we shouldn’t live in bad faith.”

 

“Bad faith?” Lance repeated, “Explain, teacher.”

 

Plaxum laughed. “Bad faith, you know? I think it could be simplified as self-awareness. Whenever we tell ourselves things have to be a certain way and we turn our eyes away from other options. I guess that’s destiny? I mean, I was in a political science major and now I’m a first grade teacher. I enjoy it. I don’t know if I’m taking it to the extremes with this example, it’s like we’re brainwashed to accept this certain kind of faith, and I don’t believe in that.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Well, I guess why I teach kids is probably just my way of insisting that things don’t have to be way they are. We have so much unfulfilled potential, and these kids have it too. I want them to grow up to be able to create new opportunities or ideas.”

 

“That does sound pretty good,” Lance said, “Didn’t think you’d be into existentialism.”

 

Plaxum shot him a quick smile. “Life shouldn’t have any pre-ordained logic that gives us relief that we shouldn’t let tradition stop us from being who we are as people.”

 

“That sounds like Bob Marley,” Lance commented with a snort. “Well, almost.”

 

“You sure?” Plaxum said with a laugh.

 

“Hm, a bit. Their philosophy is a bit similar, don’t you think?” Lance said. “ _Get up, stand up, Stand up for your rights. Get up, stand up, Don't give up the fight!”_

 

Plaxum laughed hard, clutching her stomach. “You’re a funny guy, Lance McClain.”

 

“What can I say?” Lance gave her a wink. “I’m just pointing out the obvious.”

 

“Hm, I think I can name another one.”

 

“Shoot.”

 

 _“None but ourselves can free our minds,”_ she said, tapping her temple. “I find that a good summary.”

 

“You are so right!” Lance said. “Maybe Sartre re-incarnated into Marley.”

 

Plaxum smiled. “Perhaps.”

 

“You’re a good teacher,” Lance said, “teaching me things. I understood. I like philosophy now.”

 

“It's incredibly enriching. Very interesting. Very deep,” Plaxum said. “Existence precedes essence.”

 

“I guess you can say meeting you wasn’t just a chance?” Lance said. “I could have been in the wrong classroom and we wouldn’t have never met.”

 

“Hm, nothing happens by chance,” Plaxum said as she tapped her chin. “We don’t meet people for a reason, we just do, and from then on, we make a reason why we meet these people. We can choose to live life without any higher principles.”

 

“Nice, that’s a thought to think about.” Lance said. “I like you.”

 

She looked away, braids whipping.

 

“Are you blushing?”

 

“Nope,” Plaxum said. “Not at all.”

 

“You are!” Lance exclaimed. “Let me see.”

 

“Eek!”

 

Lance laughed. He liked this woman. She was nice. He’s just met her and he doesn’t believe how easy it was to slip in a good conversation as if they knew each other for the longest time. It felt easy with her.

 

They go through the back where children were playing around. Lance looked around the area to find his son, his eyes zeroed on the lone figure by the tree, a large book in his hands. He can recognize that tuft of duck hair anywhere.

 

He looked at Plaxum and she gave him an encouraging smile.

 

Lance stepped into the grass, walking towards the boy. He crouched down in front of him, poking the boy’s knee and waited.

 

Ari put his book down with an annoyed look, but it quickly crumbled into shock. Lance gave him a smirk and a quick wave.

 

“Hey, cub.”

 

Ari jolted from his seat and wrapped his arms around his neck. Lance laughed as he fell into the ground. Ari snuggled into his shoulder. He could feel the smile pressed against on his shoulder.

 

“Papa, you’re here,” Ari said breathily.

 

Lance tipped his head back and saw Plaxum with a wide grin, her arms crossed,sea-green eyes twinkling.

 

 **_Pretty_ ** _._

 

.

.

.

 

_The greatness of a man is not in how much wealth he acquires, but in his integrity and his ability to affect those around him positively. ~Bob Marley_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh-oh… well, what do you think Plaxum? hehe
> 
> Leave a comment and some kudos :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life gets delirious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, here's another long ass weird chapter. 
> 
> Also holy shit, i can't believe all of you guys like Plaxum. xD
> 
> As usual, I'm gonna keep editing this until the day i die i guess.
> 
> I would like to thank my wonderful and beautiful editor and BETA pal: [galaxy-gayrisson](https://galaxy-gayrrison.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [someone made fan art about chapter 13! So pretty! Dat ass tho](http://magickitt.tumblr.com/post/169533381193/a-scene-from-dindorkenstein-s-fic-life-as-we)  
>  
> 
> Song I listened to: (lmao don't shit on my choices plz)
> 
> Locked Out of Heaven - bruno mars  
> No Diggity - Blackstreet, Dr Dre, Queen Pen  
> Hey Mama - David guetta, Nicki Minaj  
> Voulez Vous - Abba  
> Take Me To Church - Hozier

Believe it or not, Lance was not a one-night-stands type of guy. Yeah, he was flirty and charismatic, but he was a romantic at heart. He liked going on dates and he never did anything half-assed… or at least he tried not to.

 

Keith and Lance hated each other, or they liked to pretend they did. Keith was aggressive and broody, never one to commit. Lance was frivolous and outgoing, being one who liked to commit. It was no wonder they turned out into one angsty mess.

 

Both of them had an uncertain heart forming a vague relationship.

 

Pidge was right. Maybe he was going too fast. Keith may be a different person now, but Lance didn’t know how different Keith really was. He was happy that Keith was changing for the better, but he couldn’t help but long for some remnant of the old Keith.

 

Lance wanted to rely on him, but if he did try to lean his entire being on Keith, then he might just end up falling back on the ground. Lance just didn’t have the strength to get back up anymore, or the heart to beg Keith to love him. Lance didn’t want to torture himself by trying to turn the clock back.

 

Lance didn’t like to play the misandrist card, but if that was how men were going to treat him in the future, he might as well become straight, but God damn it! Why do boys have to be so attractive? Especially boys who have ugly greasy mullets, Jesus Christ.

 

“Why do people drink this piss?” Lance asked to no one in particular. “Being an adult is so weird… like I should start drinking Coke.”

 

“How did I end up here with you two again?” Pidge asked and then took a sip of their beer. “If you drink too much soda, you’ll get a pot belly.”

 

They were in their usual booth of the bar they frequented. Hunk was sulking and the rest of his friends were trying to cheer him up.

 

Hunk put down his Coke, smirking sheepishly, “Well…”

 

Lance patted his back. “Buddy, it’s okay. Pidge is just being mean again.”

 

“Thank you,” Hunk said, thumbing the rim of the can. “I don’t get it, man…”

 

“What’s the big deal?” Pidge said, “Couples get into fights all the time. Then, they make up.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Lance said with a raised eyebrow. “Since when have you been in a relationship?”

 

Pidge deadpanned. “Never and I plan not to.”

 

Hunk sighed. “I get that fights are part of life, but I still don’t get what I did wrong.”

 

“She’s been pissy lately,” Lance said with a shrug. “Maybe she’s on her period?”

 

Pidge whack him on the head for that.

 

“I don’t know, bro,” Hunk said, pouting. “I mean she’s been sending me some sad sighs here and there.”

 

Pidge thought for a moment, and then said, “How long have you been dating Shay?”

 

“Nine years and four months now,” Hunk said with a shrug. “Why?”

 

Lance and Pidge glanced at each other, having a silent conversation. Lance’s eyes widened from the realization.

 

Lance gaped. “Hunky! She’s waiting for you to propose!”

 

“W-what?” Hunk said, spluttering his words. “Are you sure?”

 

“Of course!” Lance said with a grin, moving closer to him. “I bet she’s been sending you some jewelry ads.”

 

Hunk thought for a moment, and then his eyes widened, saying, “She’s been sending crystal samples…”

 

Pidge groaned, slapping a hand on their eyes. “My friends are idiots.”

 

“Oh, man! I love weddings!” Lance said with a squeal. “I don’t like ties, but hot damn, do I look good in a suit. Quiznack, don’t you mean _quizsnack_?”

 

Pidge did not restrain the pained sound coming out of them.

 

“Okay, what should I do?” Hunk said as he scrolled through different rings on his phone.

 

“Obviously, you need to get a ring from Balmera,” Pidge said in a matter-of-fact way, “She’s going to pleased with that.”

 

“Hell yeah, Balmera crystals are the best,” Lance said. “Oh! We have to plan a bachelor party too!”

 

Hunk gave the both of them a bright smile.

 

“I want to marry her,” Hunk said, and then he repeated excitedly. “I want to marry her!”

 

“Who? You mean Shay?” Lance teased, propping his chin on his enclosed fingers. “I mean if it’s not her, then we have a problem. Or maybe, it’s a good thing, considering her older brother might probably crush your skull with his thighs, and if you value your life.”

 

Pidge smacked the back of Lance’s head.

 

“I love her,” Hunk said, pouting.

 

“Well, isn’t that nice to hear,” Pidge said, and then asked,“Shouldn’t she be the one hearing that?”

 

Hunk covered his eyes, “Oh God, what if she doesn’t like the ring? What if the moment isn’t right!?”

 

“Hunk, my bro,” Lance said seriously, “you’ve been dating Shay for like a decade now–”

 

“Nine years and four months,” Hunk interjected.

 

“–she loves you like a lot, and she puts up with Pidge–”

 

“And you, jackass,” Pidge said with a roll of their eyes.

 

“–I’m pretty sure, even if you had the crappiest proposal in the entire universe, she’s going to marry you.”

 

Hunk sighed, “That’s not a problem.”

 

“Well, what is, you ridiculously handsome genius?”

 

“What if this is too soon?”

 

“Jesus Christ,” Pidge said with a groan, “Have you been listening? Shay has been giving you signals!”

 

“You’re fine, Hunk,” Lance said placatingly, “Love is all you need. Remember? Even _The Beatles_ said so, and that’s closest to any god’s word.”

 

“...Wow,” Hunk said, slumping into his chair. His eyes vacant. “I don’t know what to say…”

 

Lance smiled vapidly, sighing almost too sadly. Lance was kind of jealous. Hunk’s got his life together. Lance was… not so much. He’s pretty much skipped the marriage part towards the baby in a carriage. He hasn’t dated seriously since college, and he wanted to find love like Hunk and Shay’s.

  


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.

  
  


_Lance took the blindfold from Mike’s eyes. The man blinked rapidly, trying to adjust from the sudden onslaught of bright multi-colored lights. Music booming from the stage. Nick Jonas’s voice coming out of the speakers._

 

_“Uhm, what am I supposed to see?” Mike said, turning to Lance._

 

_“Sometimes I forget you’re as blind as a bat, Mikey-moo,” Lance said with a pitying sigh. “Why don’t you invest in contact lenses?”_

 

_“They make my eyes go dry,” Mike said, grabbing the pair of glasses from his pocket. He put them on and his expression went agape, mouth dry. “You brought me to a strip club?”_

 

_“Yep!” Lance said, eyes bright. “C’mon, we’re going to do shots!”_

 

_Mike grimaced, allowing to be dragged away by his future brother-in-law. His other friends were shouting in excitement. Traitors, Mike thought. They passed through poles of skimpily dressed dancers. Mike awkwardly looked away from their jerky movements._

 

_Lance had brought him into the bar counter lined with jagerbombs. He gulped when he saw the leering stare of the bartender as if he was the reaper ready to take his soul._

 

_“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Mike said, inching away from the counter. His buddies were already downing the liquor. Their shouts were growing louder with every shot._

 

_Lance nudged him on the shoulder. “Live a little, Mikey-moo.”_

 

_Mike eyed the large man next to Lance, who smiled at him sheepishly. “How come he’s not drinking?”_

 

_“He’s on a diet,” Lance said, waving his hand._

 

_“I’m not!” Hunk protested with a huff. “I’m the designated driver.”_

 

_“Right,” Lance said, jutting his thumb at him. “He’s our Uber.”_

 

_Mike nodded, and then turned his eyes at the yellow and brown concoction. “I don’t know, Lance…”_

 

_Lance rolled his eyes, “C’mon, you’re going to be a dad! You need heavy amounts of alcohol to stomach that thought.”_

 

_Mike deadpanned. “I love your sister.”_

 

_“I know,” Lance said. “As her brother, I know she would want you to do this. How do you think she’s doing celebrating the news?”_

 

_“Aren’t they having a dinner?” Mike said with a pout. Aw, cute. “Delilah told me so.”_

 

_Lance slapped his back. Mike let out a sound from the force, his hands flying up to steady his glasses._

 

_Lance laughed, “Well, let’s say she’s having something magical with a different Mike.”_

 

_Mike gave him a dull look. He licked his lips and then scratched the tiny dark freckle on his cheek. “Fine, I’ll do at least two shots, okay?”_

 

_Lance whooped, “There we go!”_

 

_Lance grabbed two shots, and handed one to Mike. “To fatherhood?”_

 

_“To fatherhood,” Mike muttered, then they clinked their glasses together. Mike downed the shot, and felt the burn._

 

_._

_._

_._

  


**_“It's going down fade to Blackstreet,”_ ** _Mike rapped, swaying with every word._ **_“The homies got RB collab creations funk like acne.”_ **

 

 **_“No doubt I put it down never slouch as long as my credit could vouch,”_ ** _Mike said, bobbing his head, arm snaked around Lance’s neck._ **_“A dog couldn't catch me straight up. Tell me who could stop with Dre makin' moves attracting honeys like a magnet, giving them eargasms with my mellow accent!”_ **

 

 _Mike paused, giving a sleavy smile to crowd in front of him. “_ **_Still moving his flavor with the homies Blackstreet and Teddy. The original rump shakers!”_ **

 

 **_“Shorty get down, good Lord,”_ ** _Lance sang, shooting finger-guns at random people._ **_“Baby got 'em open all over town, strictly biz she don't play around, cover much grounds. Got game by the pound!”_ **

 

_The boys started spitting out the words like fire. The crowd’s hands were up in the air, cheering on the duo on top of the counter. Strobe lights going sporadic. People had their phones up, recording them._

 

_The dancers swayed with the beat, shaking their hips along the rhythm._

 

_Mike’s dress shirt was half-way undone. His glasses were no longer on his face. Half of hair was messily ruffled. His face was blushed with pink. Lance’s snapback was in an awkward angle, his own shirt was unbuttoned, revealings his collarbone. There were lipstick marks all over his neck. Someone took a picture of ridiculous antics._

 

**_“I like the way you work it.”_ **

 

 **_“No diggity!”_ ** _The crowd yelled._

 

 **_“I got to bag it up,”_ ** _Mike sang._

 

**_“I like the way you work it.”_ **

 

**_“No diggity!”_ **

 

_._

 

_._

 

_._

  


Lance yawned, stretching his arms up above his head. He walked out into the hallway, scratching the back of head. He backtracked when he noticed the calendar, his thoughts skidding to a halt. In big red letters that spelled: **_Ari’s Birthday!_ **

 

Lance hit himself in the head for his forgetful head. Ari’s birthday was literally in less than twenty four hours and what has he done? Nothing!

 

Ari wasn’t very… social. Yes, he was outspoken. He was not afraid to say his opinions and criticisms. Ari was smart and had the emotional maturity of an adult, but he was still learning how to relate to other kids, adjust to social rules, and evolve from child’s play to a more elaborately constructed interactions and high expectations.

 

Ari can describe elaborate situations, where he can travel through alternate universes, see into the future, or meeting a different alien race. Sometimes he took those literally. Ari had developed the ability to consider the intent behind an action or choice faster than most kids, but he still has trouble to take another’s perspective. It was why he asked so many questions in a blunt manner.

 

To put it simply, he was a kid who couldn’t make... _friends_...easily.

 

Lance cringed at the thought. He couldn’t really relate much to that. Lance had always been surrounded by peers. People looked up at him with awe and admiration sometimes, which was flattering. Lance had the self-esteem of a peanut, so it was good to have people like him.

 

But Ari was no good with social cues, so it had become a habit of Lance to just say how he felt out loud. It was a good system. Ari liked to call it _honesty_.

 

Lance went on to make breakfast. He was flipping pancakes when Ari came out his bedroom, yawning loudly. His t-shirt was slipping off on one shoulder, the ends of pajamas sagging on his feet. His hair a wild nest.

 

“Morning, Cub,” Lance said with a smile.

 

Ari nodded in greeting, and plopped himself on the chair. He rested his head on the table, his snoring coming in shorts huffs.

 

Lance frowned. “Mijo, don’t sleep on the table.”

 

Ari did not move, his position remained.

 

“ _Mijo,_ ” Lance called out, turning the stove off.

 

Lance went to the boy, shaking his shoulder. “Mijo, wake up.”

 

He placed a hand on the boy’s neck which was burning. Lance’s eyes widened, he lifted Ari’s chin, and placed his hand on his forehead.

 

Lance clicked his tongue. “Ari, what were you doing last night?”

 

He nearly yelled when he saw a nasty scratch marks on his arms. He grabbed the injured arm gingerly, “Mijo, when did you get these?”

 

Ari looked at him with bleary eyes. “Mmmmnnnn, I dunno.”

 

Lance sighed. “How are you feeling?”

 

“I feel yucky.”

 

Lance kissed his forehead and then put him into his arms, carrying him into his bedroom. He tucked him into bed. His ears picked up a soft mewling sound from somewhere.

 

Ari’s body went rigid.

 

“What was that?” Lance asked, frowning.

 

“Nothing,” Ari said quickly.

 

_Meeeeoooowwww_

 

“Ari,” Lance said sternly with a raised eyebrow. “What was that?”

 

Ari sighed, collapsing in to the pillow. “Blue.”

 

“Blue?” Lance repeated. He heard more mewling sounds under the bed. Lance crouched down, and then saw a carton box filled with kittens. He pulled them out and saw five pairs of wide blinking eyes.

 

Lance glanced at Ari’s sheepishly red face.

 

“Ah, I saw them in the alley,” Ari said, and then sneezed.

 

“In the rain,” Lance said with a flat look. “You went out in the rain to get kittens?”

 

“What was I supposed to do?” Ari said, making grabby hands for a kitten. “Leave them in the rain? I can’t do that to babies.”

 

Lance eyes softened, “Yeah, you can’t do that. Good job.”

 

Ari smiled.

 

“But we can’t keep all of them,” Lance said with a sigh, “We have to give them away.”

 

Ari’s face broke.

 

“B-but,” Ari paused, and then sneezed. “I already named all of them.”

 

Lance groaned. Yep, that meant he already got attached.

 

“I’m sorry, Mijo,” Lance said, smiling sadly. “We can’t take care all of them…”

 

“Rest up,” Lance said, “We’ll talk about this later.”

 

Ari nodded, gave one last look at the box, and then turned to his side.

 

.

.

.

 

The group huddled around the box, cooing at the small bundle. Lance sighed, crossing his arms. He was on the sofa, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked up at them with pleading eyes.

 

“Please take one,” Lance said, a heavy sense of import laced in his voice. “ _Please.”_

 

Pidge snorted, grabbing the cat with wide blinking green eyes. “I never thought I’d see the day to you saying no to cats.”

 

“I’m keeping Blue,” Lance said, petting the kitten perched on lap. “As much as I love cats, cat piss smells absolutely acrid, and I don’t have the time to care for another living thing. Besides you, hermosa **”**

 

Hunk played with the chubby yellow cat, poking the pink nose. “Aw, he’s cute.”

 

Shiro was scratching the black cat’s belly, cooing at the sight. He looked up the group’s amused stares. “What?”

 

“Actual Dad,” Lance said with a smirk.

 

Shiro raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Right back at you.”

 

Keith stood awkwardly in front of a hissing ginger kitten. He looked at the small thing with cautious eyes, as if he was ready to bolt through the door.

 

The cat looked at him with unimpressed eyes.

 

“I thought you liked cats,” Lance said, petting his kitten.

 

“I like looking at them,” Keith said, inching away from the small animal. “No touching, no thanks.”

 

“You are a literal grumpy cat,” Lance said with a laugh.

 

“Lance, don’t you have a birthday to plan?” Keith said, petulantly.

 

“Oh fu–”

  


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“Why are we the ones making the cake?” Keith said, looking at the ingredients warily.

 

Lance thumped his chest, “Because baking seems fun!”

 

“Why can’t Hunk bake the cake?” Keith whined, pouting.

 

“Hunk is trying to plan his proposal,” Lance said, cracking an egg. “He’s too busy doing Mission Impossible 6: asking Rax for his blessing.”

 

“Oh Jesus,” Keith said with a wince.

 

Lance went on to crack another egg. “I think you need two eggs?”

 

Keith frowned. “Um, I’m pretty it’s five.”

 

“That’s too much,” Lance said. “Five is a lot of eggs.”

 

“I’m very sure it’s five eggs,” Keith said.

 

“Um, I have watched Hunk and my mom bake enough cakes to know that it’s two eggs, Mullet,” Lance said in a matter-a-factly tone.

 

“It is five, for fuck’s sake,” Keith said, gripping his hair. “Do you want your cake to be dry as a desert?”

 

“Didn’t you lived in a desert for a while? What if I like my cake being dry, stop being so judgemental. And, it’s the milk that makes it moist, not the eggs,” Lance responded, setting the eggshell down.

 

“Whatever, just make it three to even it,” Keith said with a sigh, cracking another egg, and then dumped into the bowl.

 

“Fine, I guess that’s a good compromise,” he said, sighing before muttering under his breath, “I wish you had compromising as a trait when we used to date. Maybe then we would have actually worked out.”

 

“You...you just had to make it awkward,” Keith said, gaping like a fish. “I have a feeling this cake is going to taste like salt.”

 

“I’m sure you’re used to that taste since you used to be so bitter about everything,” Lance said.

 

“You know damn well that I’m not the only who tastes bitter.”

 

“I know from personal experience that out of the two of us, at least I am not the bitterest tasting.”  

 

“Stop it with pettiness, Lance!” yelled Pidge from the living room.

 

Keith shrugged, “You heard them.”

 

“You too, Keith!” yelled Pidge.

 

Lance smirked, “You heard them, Mullet.”

 

“Let’s just make the damn cake,” Keith muttered under his breath, grabbing a whisk.

 

“Fine,” Lance said, handing the bowl to Keith to whisk.

 

Keith stirred the batter with the whisk, his elbow hitting Lance’s ribs with each turn.

 

Lance almost growled, the beginning of it forming in his throat. “And you call me petty. I know you’re doing that on purpose!”

 

“Doing what?” Keith looked up from the bowl, brows furrowed.

 

“You know exactly what you are doing, don’t act innocent,” Lance added.

 

“I’m whisking…?” Keith said slowly.

 

Lance’s face smoothed over. Maybe Keith didn’t mean to and Lance was just being an ass? “Just… keep whisking. You’re going too slow.”

 

“Okay,” Keith said with a huff, continuing his duty.

 

“Are you getting tired yet? You should go faster than that. You’re going as fast as a baby turtle riding an old snail,” Lance teased, pointing at him with a knife.

 

Keith looked at Lance with strange eyes, and then his eyes widened. “Lance, you’re holding the knife wrong! When do you even need a knife for a cake? Are you even taking this seriously?”

 

“Of course I am! It is my son’s birthday after all. And about the knife? I don’t really know. I’m planning for the future,” he shrugged.

 

“To kill me?” Keith asked

 

“It’s not like I haven’t considered it.”

 

“You’re… joking right?”

 

Lance gave him a small smile, and said nothing.

 

“You are joking,” Keith said sternly.

 

“I don’t know, you tell me~”

 

Keith gave a dry laugh, and then something clicked in his head. “Did you preheat the oven?”

 

“....You were suppose to do that?” Lance said, “Why don’t you do it since you’re such a hot head?”

 

“Jesus Christ, Lance,” Keith said with a groan. He went to the oven, and turned the knob to the right temperature. “I can’t believe you forgot to preheat the oven. That’s like step one!”

 

“Did you even check the oven before you turned it on, though?” Lance asked, quickly dashing towards it.

 

“Why do you keep something in your oven?” Keith asked quizzically.

 

“Where else am I supposed to keep my pots and pans?” Lance retorted, pulling out.

 

“In a cabinet?” Keith said

 

“A lot of people do it, my kitchen is too small to put them in the cabinets anyways,” Lance responded. “Keep stirring, the human whisk.”

 

Keith grumbled as he continued to stir. As he finished, they placed the batter into the pan,. They shoving it in the oven.

 

Lance grabbed the bag of flour, until he slipped on a piece of butter, dumping the contents on Keith’s greasy mullet.

 

Keith let out a cough, a giant cloud of powder erupting.

 

Lance sat up, coughing as well, fanning his face, trying to clear the flour in the air. He looked up at Keith and started laughing loudly. “Holy shit, you could be the knock-off, emo version of the Pillsbury Dough Boy!”

 

Keith growled, and grabbed a handful of flour, and slapped it on Lance’s cheek.

 

“Ow, you know I like it rough, but calm down. We’re in public!” he hissed with feint embarrassment.

 

Keith wiped the flour off his face with his t-shirt, revealing his toned stomach.

 

“There are children here, Keith! No need to flash everyone!” Lance said, turning his head away, although he will admit, it wasn’t a bad sight.

 

Keith grabbed another handful, and then slapped onto Lance’s shirt.

 

“Hey! I’m trying to make it seem like I’ve been clean from cocaine! You’re not making my job easier!” Lance got up from the ground. “I know you probably enjoyed the sight of seeing me on my knees once more, but I have a present for you!” He grabbed a handful of flour and blew it into his face.

 

Keith spluttered from the projectile. His face scrunching from the powder. “Shit, I got some in my eyes!”

 

“Oh shit, sorry!” Lance responded, moving closer. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to do that.” Without thinking, he raised his hand up to cup Keith’s cheeks lightly with his hands. Surprisingly, although he could use a skin routine, Keith’s skin was soft. “Open your eyes and let me have a look.”

 

Keith had so much colors in his eyes despite his lithe and pale body like he was some kind of blank canvas. His eyes are rimmed with sleepless black, the iris of his eyes are ringed with gold. Sometimes Keith’s eyes looked grey in the dark, but sometimes they turned indigo, and when the sun hit them just right, it turned into a rare violet shade like he was part Targaryen or something.

 

Keith kept blinking, eyes unsteady. His cheeks are smeared with white powder. He raised his hand up to rub at his eyes.

 

Lance grabbed his hand and pulled it down, away from his face and held on. “Stop, you’ll make it worse. You might have to wash out your eyes in the sink. I’m sorry.”

 

Keith blushed, fidgeting in his place. “Uh...yeah. Okay.”

 

Lance noticed the untouched box of wax paper. “...Did we put the wax paper in?”

 

Keith whipped his head to the oven. “Fuck.”

 

.

.

.

 

_“Why am I here again?” Pidge asked, nursing their bubble tea. They’re not old enough for a drink yet. Lance loved to boast this fact with drinking copious amounts of scotch. “Did Miriam break up with you?”_

 

_“I told you she goes by MJ,” Lance muttered, downing another shot._

 

_“Oh, darn it,” Pidge said with a flat look, “I’m so sorry I didn’t call the girl who broke up with you for another guy and is also a heartless bitch with her preferred name. How long were you dating again? Two weeks?”_

 

_“Don’t call her a bitch,” Lance said weakly, and then downed another shot. “She was a nice person.”_

 

_“She broke up with you way too sudden, Lance,” Pidge said. “That’s already a bitch move.”_

 

_“It takes time to meet the love of your life, Pidgey,” Lance said sullenly, “It just wasn’t her this time.”_

 

_Pidge snorted at his words. They don’t like the word ‘love of your life’, but they don’t say it. “Fine, so that is true, but it still hurts, doesn’t it?”_

 

_Lance side-eyed them with a raised eyebrow, “Nice observation, Dr. Phil. Thank you, I appreciate it.”_

 

_Pidge punched him on the shoulder. “I don’t mean that. You know, Keith?”_

 

_Lance hissed. “We do not mention he-who-shall-not-be-named.”_

 

_“Quit treating your ex-boyfriend like Voldemort,” Pidge said with a sigh. “I’m just checking up on you since Hunk said you didn’t make it back to apartment hours ago. He also told me you thought this woman could be the one or whatever.”_

 

_“I may have told him one night with a few drinks,” Lance said slowly, and then down another. “Give me vodka this time, bartender.”_

 

_“Don’t,” Pidge said, giving the bartender a warning look._

 

_“Not everyone meets the love of their life like Hunk and Shay,” Lance said solemnly. “Only the lucky ones. Tell me what have I done wrong to deserve this?”_

 

_“Do you want a list?” Pidge asked._

 

_“Nevermind,” Lance said quickly. He did not want Pidge exposing him in front of the cute people in the bar. He already looked pathetic enough. “You don’t have the woes of love.”_

 

_“You’re right, I don’t,” Pidge said with a huff, and then added pointedly, “Neither do you.. You need someone to love you first to have woes.”_

 

_Lance ignored that comment. “Well, someday I will find the one,” Lance defended himself, taking another shot. It wasn’t even his, but the man next to him nodded at him with understanding and gave him a pitying smile, he gave him a pat on his back and left. Lance nodded his head in gratitude. “Just you wait, I need someone to meet my standards.”_

 

_“You mean your non-existent ones?” Pidge said with a dry tone. “I mean you dated that cocker-spaniel bitch back in highschool. At this point, I’m gonna expect you to marry the next person who comes in.”_

 

_As if on cue, a devilishly handsome man with long legs for miles walked in. There was a white tuft of hair that stood contrast from their black hair. Their biceps bulging out of the ill-fitting shirt. God, they wore leggings!_

 

_Pidge hit him, and Lance yelped in surprise._

 

_“Ow!” Lance said, flinching away from them. “The hell was that for?”_

 

_“That!” Pidge pointed at his face, then turning to eye the sexy man. “You have that face where you’re going to have another sudden bout of love! Learn to restrain yourself! Give yourself some time, damn it! You’re better than this, McClain!”_

 

_“Yeah, McClain!” was yelled somewhere from the back._

 

_“I’m a thirsty ho,” Lance said grimly, accepting his true nature. “You’re right. I’m no match for that Quarter Pounder Beef Daddy. I am a mere cheeseburger deluxe with no pickles, extra lettuce and two layers of ketchup.”_

 

_“Sometimes I wonder what really is going on in that head of yours,” Pidge commented with a grimace, “And then I’m too scared to delve deeper into it.”_

 

_“It’s not for you poor innocent eyes, honey,” Lance said with a sigh. “God, look at that ass.”_

 

_Pidge groaned, “You are so gay, oh my god.”_

 

_“Oh my god, you just called me a sexuality,” Lance said, placing a hand on his heart. “I might as well cry.”_

 

_“Aw, It’s kind of like that time you used a hair straightener,” Pidge said._

 

_Lance cringed from the memory. “Me using a straightener is me three centimeters away from a third degree burn.”_

 

_Pidge sighed. “I don’t need you to come up to that guy, all emotionally compromised after your breakup, just so you can be rejected and come back being a sobbing mess all over again.”_

 

_“Okay, first of all, who said I was going to get rejected–”_

 

_“Me. I do.”_

 

_“–and also I would not be a sobbing mess. I have more dignity than that.”_

 

_“Right. I keep confusing you with Matt,” Pidge said flippantly._

 

_“Where is he anyways?” Lance asked._

 

_“London,” Pidge said, taking a sip of their bubble tea. “He’s on some exchange program thing.”_

 

_“Figures,” Lance muttered. “My fellow memelord is missing in action again.”_

 

_“There’s not much action to begin with,” Pidge said._

 

_“I can just feel the brotherly love you have for him,” Lance said sarcastically._

 

_Quarter Pounder Beef Daddy went up to the bar, sitting right next to Lance._

 

_Lance’s inner thirsty hoe screamed in delight. Pidge slapped his hand._

 

_“No, no, bad Lance!” Pidge scolded._

 

_“But...he’s right there!” Lance said with a whimper. “Pidge, give me a break! I am weak against men with high cheekbones!”_

 

_“No!”_

 

_“C’mon!”_

 

_“No means no!”_

 

_“Pidgey!”_

 

_“Fuckin’ hell, no–”_

 

_“Is everything alright?” asked the man next to them. He eyed the two of them warily, concern written in his face. “Do I need to call someone…?”_

 

_Lance swivelled his chair towards him, putting his chin on his hand seductively, he fluttered his eyelashes, “Nope, there’s no problem.”_

 

_The man raised an eyebrow at the squawking person behind them. Lance continued to grin brightly. “I’ve never seen you here before…”_

 

_“Oh, I’m new in city,” Studmuffin said, gesturing to the windows outside. “I just got hired in this big facility and, well, here I am.”_

 

_“Interesting,” Lance said, and let out his hand. “My name’s Lance by the way.”_

 

_He felt cold metal against it, a strong grip shook him. The man grinned._

 

_“Shiro.”_

 

_Pidge called a drink at the mention of this, sliding a fake ID to the bartender._

 

_._

_._

 

_._

  
  


Lance came out of the shower, rubbing out the wetness of his hair with a towel. Lance opened Ari’s door, peeking in the small sliver to find the boy still snoozing. Lance had put a wet towel on top of his burning forehead. Lance went up him, removing the towel, and checked his temperature. It was normal.

 

Lance sighed in relief, retreating back to the door. He went into the kitchen, which was already cleaned up from the messy food fight they had. There was hardwood cabinets that Hunk built himself lining the kitchen walls. The ceiling was so high that the lights look like suns.

 

Lance opened the fridge, and then grabbed the carton of ice cream. Cold air slips through over white tiles. Lance’s apartment was simple. He liked it because there was enough space and rent was affordable. There are two bedrooms and one bathroom. His parents don’t pay for his rent anymore, now that he could actually pay for it.

 

Lance liked his apartment because it was close to work and convenience stores. The bar was just down the street. That was necessary, one of the reasons why he bought the apartment.

 

There was so much clutter by the window, where his desk was situated. There were plants everywhere. The sofa had a knitted quilt over it. It was a housewarming gift from Mama. There was a fireplace by the living room and a piano next to it. Ari was learning, but he was too busy doing ukulele practice. There was a thin layer of dust over it. Lance used to play, but that was before the accident. There were pictures on top of the piano.

 

The carpet was something Delilah bought from a flea market, there was still the stubborn blue paint stain she left. Lance didn’t have the heart to throw it out.

 

Mike’s books were on the shelf next to Lance’s desk. Lance read them when he had time. There was a picture of Lance and Mike in that wild night before Mike went missing. Delilah was _so_ mad. Lance found him in some convenience store.

 

Lance took a seat on the by bar stool, resting his arms on the counter. His chin propped above them. The wall clock’s ticking sounded too loud in Lance’s ears.

 

In the bathroom there was a shower that loved to play games with Lance. It was sleek and sly, the water came out scalding hot, sometimes freezing cold. It was a fun game. The place was like Iceland or something.

 

Pidge came in through the front door for umpteenth time. They were so used to coming here that they didn’t bother to knock anymore. They collapsed onto the sofa, sinking themselves into mismatched pillows.

 

“Is Ari asleep?” Pidge asked, opening their laptop.

 

Lance sighed, “Yes, like a perfect angel.”

 

His comment was received with an eye roll and a small smirk. “You invited Matt and Allura, right?”

 

“I emailed them, yes,” Lance said. “They’re always off to those international meetings.”

 

“Yeah, it’s not like Allura’s a politician or something,” Pidge said sarcastically.

 

Lance pointed at them with a spoon. “Don’t be a smart ass.”

 

“One percent represent,” Pidge said, and then typed away.

 

It was five past ten when there was a knock on the door, and Lance got up from his seat. He opened it to see Coran.

 

“The fun has arrived,” Coran said, twirling his moustache.

 

Lance grinned, and then hugged him. “It’s been awhile.”

 

Coran smirked, and then patted the white tuft of hair next to him. “Had to do some babysitting duties, my good sir.”

 

“Al,” Lance said, looking up and down the boy. “You’ve gotten taller.”

 

“On his way to six feet,” Coran said proudly.

 

Lance didn’t doubt that. For the longest time, he was the shortest in his family. Come highschool, he was a giraffe. Suck it, genetics.

 

Alfor was a year older than Ari, so they weren’t in the same grade. His skin was mocha coffee, brown eyes bright. They were the color of burnt honey, the rust from his frying pan when making breakfast. Fingers were grasping the hem of his jacket, itching to move. Kinda like his tongue, which Lance realized was moving rapidly.

 

“–Is Ari here, can I see him?” Alfor said, practically buzzing. “Can I see him?”

 

“He’s still napping, buddy,” Lance said with a chuckle.

 

Alfor’s head craned to the side, a wide grin in place, and then yelled, “Pidge!”

 

“God fucking damn it,” Lance heard Pidge curse quietly. They shut the laptop, and placed it onto the coffee table.

 

Alfor ran up to them, and then wrapped his arms around their tiny body. Lance wanted to laugh. Maybe in a few years, he would be taller than Pidge.

 

Pidge was patting the arm of their nephew awkwardly, looking very strangled.

 

There was a sudden knock by the door, and Lance turned to see a familiar woman wearing a sheepish smile.

 

“Hi,” Plaxum said, fiddling the ends of their yellow dress. The straps of her dress were thin, revealing her sunburnt shoulders.

 

“Hi,” Lance breathed out, his shoulders sagging. “You...You’re here.”

 

“I was invited, wasn’t I?” she said with a smile. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”

 

Lance had never been so enraptured with a girl before, well, besides Allura, but she was dating Matt at the time, so that lasted about five minutes. But with Plaxum, there was something that made his breath shorter each time.

 

She was so short. There was an array of braids, twisting the ends of turquoise hair. There was something about her that just makes Lance hear the call of the ocean. The way she smiled just looked so kind and loving.

 

Lance scratched the back of his head, and then said, “Well, this is a child’s birthday party…”

 

Plaxum giggled. “Don’t tell anyone, but I play favorites.”

 

Lance smirked, “Oh, that is so horrible of you.”

 

“Shh!” Plaxum said, smacking his shoulder.

 

“Oh, who’s this?” Pidge said, suddenly right next to Lance. “Hi, I’m Pidge. This guy’s probation officer.”

 

Lance elbows them.

 

“Plaxum,” she said, shaking the Pidge’s hand firmly.

 

“So how do you two know each other?” Pidge asked curiously, hitching their glasses with two fingers.

 

“I’m Ari’s teacher,” she said, smiling. “I come in peace?”

 

“She’s cute,” Pidge blurted out suddenly, looking away. “Oh, um, sorry.”

 

Plaxum giggled, “It’s quite alright! Thank you for telling me the compliment.”

 

“She’s polite too,” Pidge said, looking at Lance. “Where the hell did you find her?”

 

“I’m new here actually!” Plaxum said, “I used to live in Hawaii, but I grew up in the Philippines when I was younger.”

 

“Sounds hot,” Lance said without thinking. Plaxum and Pidge looked at him with wide eyes. Lance’s brain processed his words, and his hands shot up to his mouth. “Oh my God, I mean like it sounds _hot!_ Like tropical weather? Beaches? Sea urchins?....Coconuts?”

 

“Wow,” Pidge said, shaking their head disapprovingly. “I apologize on his behalf.”

 

“It’s fine,” she said laughing. “I did grow up with all those things, yes. It was wonderful.”

 

“Why’d you move here, then?” Pidge asked.

 

Plaxum was silent, fidgeting. “Uhm…”

 

“You don’t have to answer that!” Lance said quickly, elbowing Pidge again.

 

“Yeah, shit, I’m sorry if that was a touchy subject,” Pidge said, grimacing.

 

“It’s not really a good story,” Plaxum tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She had this far-away look in her eyes when she continued, “Well, I just thought a change of scenery would be nice.”

 

“It is a pretty good view,” Lance said, “you should hang out with us, be a part of our gang.”

 

“A gang?” Plaxum said and then whispered, “I can’t be in a gang.”

 

“She’s funny,” Pidge said with a chuckle, “The others will like her, I’m sure.”

 

Plaxum’s shocked expression suddenly morphed into horror.

 

“Not like a legitimate gang!” Lance said hurriedly, gesturing wildly. “I want you meet our friends, they all...live here...in the same… apartment. Huh, I just realized that.”

 

“Dumbass,” Pidge said with a sigh.

 

“Yeah! So, you can hang out with us whenever,” Lance said with a smile. “If you’re not too busy, of course.”

 

“Well, I don’t have friends here,” Plaxum said with a laugh, scratching the back of her head embarrassedly. “I kind of left them back in my hometown.”

 

“How do you like it here, by the way?” Pidge said, “This city is filled with rude people, I swear.”

 

“The people I’ve met are nice so far,” Plaxum said, “Well, that’s just my office though.”

 

“Right, you’re a teacher,” Pidge said, “How’d you get into teaching?”

 

“This should be interesting,” Lance said, nudging Plaxum’s shoulder playfully.

 

Plaxum beamed and then opened her mouth.

  


.

.

.

  


Ari woke up to candles.

 

Eight to be exact.

 

“Oh no,” Ari said with a sigh, looking at the cake with uncertain.

 

Lance laughed. “Happy Birthday, Cub.”

 

“Papaaaaaa,” Ari moaned, pouting. “You didn't have to do this.”

 

“What! This is a time to celebrate, Ari,” Lance said, tickling his stomach. Ari giggled from the contact. “You’re finally eight! What do you think of that?”

 

“I don’t really like celebrating my birthday…” Ari mumbled, and it sounded almost too sad. “It...It’s weird.”

 

“Why is it weird, Mijo?” Lance asked, suddenly feeling the serious atmosphere.

 

“Papa, should we really celebrate Mama and Dad’s death?” Ari said bluntly, wiping his eyes.

 

Lance paused, and then sighed. He placed the cake on the dresser, and then gave the boy a smile.

 

“Listen, Mijo,” Lance said patting his blanketed knee. “Celebrating your birthday is a special day. You know why? It celebrates the day your parents became heroes.”

 

“Heroes?” Ari repeated.

 

“Yep, you already know you’re parents were always the best people. They would do anything for the people they loved,” Lance said, “Your parents saved me so many times, more times than I can ever count, and well, they saved you this day. Every time your birthday comes up, everyone in our family thanks them for saving you! That’s how important you are, Mijo, so don’t feel sad about this day.”

 

Ari was quiet.

 

“I think it’s better if we cherish them, right?” Lance said grinning. “We should thank them with every wish you make.”

 

Ari blinked away the tears, and beamed. “Yeah!”

 

He blew his candles.

 

Lance grabbed a box, and placed on Ari lap, he smiled at him mischievously. “Go on, open it.”

 

Ari hesitantly opened it and found a pair of wide blinking crystal blue eyes. Around her neck was a collar that spelled **BLUE.**

 

“This… I get to keep her?”

 

“Yep!” Lance said, popping the ‘p’. “I think it’s time you learn about taking care of another living thing.”

 

“I will protect her with my life,” Ari said, hugging the small animal.

 

“Hm, looks like you’re becoming a hero, too.”

 

.

.

.

  


Ari was suddenly attacked with confetti. His dark unruly hair caught a few pieces. His nose was still a bit stuffy, but nevertheless he smiled brightly.

 

“Herzlichen Glückwunsch zum Geburtstag” Slav cheered, “Happy birthday, my little friend.”

 

“Danke,” Ari said, giving the man a hug.

 

“Yo! You didn't give me a hug until you were five!” Pidge exclaimed, offended. “What is this betrayal of trust?”

 

Ari rolled his eyes with a smile in his face, he gave them a hug. Pidge smiled into his fluffy hair.

 

“Ari!” yelled Alfor.

 

“Al?” Ari said with a shocked face. He was suddenly tackled by the older boy.

 

“Oi! Watch his head!” Lance scolded.

 

“You’re such a dad,” Shiro said, smirking.

 

“Go away,” Lance said, flapping his hands.

 

Lance noticed the sudden shrieking, and turned his head to find Ari being tickled by Keith, of all people!

 

“Keith, no, stop!” Ari squealed, squirming from his hold.”Aaaaah!”

 

“Not gonna stop until you give me a hug” Keith said with impishly.

 

“Fine! Please!” Ari said, surrendering.

 

“There!” Keith said, and then hugging the boy. “Was that so hard?”

 

“Yes!” Ari said with a pout.

 

Lance eyes softened at the interaction, but he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Plaxum.

 

“I love it here,” she said, jumping up and down. Her ears are pierced with dolphins. “Everyone is really nice! Your family is really fun.”

 

Lance laughed. “Well, we’re a pretty fun family. Better than the Even Stevens.”

 

“Definitely!” Plaxum said with a giggle. “Hey, is one of your siblings late?”

 

“No…?” Lance said with a raised eyebrow. He looked around. Everyone seemed to be here. Mama was even giving kisses to Ari. “I think everyone’s here.”

 

“Oh, so who’s that woman in all the pictures?” Plaxum said, cocking her head to the side. “I see her everywhere, so she must have been important…”

 

Lance’s response came out in a stutter. He glanced at the people around him. He saw Nessie giving him worried eyes, and he shook his head, mouthing to her that he was fine, until he saw a figure behind her.

 

He sees a familiar smile, a sliver of teeth, a quirk in the corners.

 

“Lance, are you okay?” Plaxum said, steadying her hand on his shoulder.

 

Lance looked at his hand, _whoa_ , since when was he holding a bottle?

 

“Lance, are you okay?” Black hair. Violet eyes. Concern.

 

“Lance,” Yellow headband. Hunk came. Thick brows are furrowed.

 

“Lance?” Glasses. Mike– no, that’s Pidge, stupid. Mike was **_dead_ ** _._

 

Lance’s mind was too drunk to understand party games. What the hell was this pin the tail on the depressed guy?

 

There was singing. _The Beatles?_ Lance saw a white dress, no, that’s the curtains.

 

“Lance?” Was that Mama? No, his mother calls him _Alejo._ That’s not–

 

Lance collapsed into something, the sofa. He looked up the lights are still turned on, but no one was around. The paintings are turning into a blur, kind of like his life. It was a good metaphor. Colors represent his life a lot.

 

The party was over. Right, how can Lance forget that? Ari went to bed, he remembered tucking him in.

 

Right, _stupid_.

 

There was three bottles in front of him, a fourth one spilled on the carpet. The side that still had paint splashed all over it. Stupid, Delilah.

 

Lance’s eyes were shutting, his long lashes fluttering closed. There was something pressed against his cheek, soft like a feather, dainty fingers on his chin. The ghost of a kiss on his forehead.

 

“Good night, Lancey…Shhh...no, don’t cry…”

 

That sounded a lot like his sister or some other little girl.

 

“C’mon, _Forehead,_ don’t be a baby…”

 

That… sounded a lot like Delilah. Maybe.

 

“I can’t wait to meet you, Ari.”

 

Lance jolted, his chest heaving. His eyes were snapped open. He was not having one of those dreams. No fucking way. There was only silence greeting him, wrapping his skull in thick ribbons. Lance blinked a couple of times, watching the way the room spinned.

 

Lance only sat on the sofa, his feet were tucked under his legs. His shoes were thrown off somewhere. There was nothing but the ceiling fan spinning overhead. Lance rubbed his head, trying to calm the demons living there. Shush, now, shushhhhhhhhh. Lance wanted the demons to shut up, but it was so hard to find and strangle them to silence when he was too lost in the maze of his own fucking head.

 

He looked up and saw a sad smile. Ari’s smile.

 

“Hey, Forehead,” they say, twirling a golden thread around their finger. Their eyes mirrored Lance’s. They are filled with curiosity, fear, or maybe wonder?

 

“Hey,” Lance said back.

 

“Wake up?” They said with a smile, their blue eyes are narrowed with mirth dancing in them. How amusing. “ _For me?_ ”

 

“Okay, Lala,” Lance said.

 

“Cool, see you soon?” Lala said, waving with their fingers.

 

.

.

.

 

Lance woke up.

 

And it wasn’t like a nice waking up. It was like a “Oh for fuck’s sake i’ve been unconscious” kind of waking up. Yeah, there was a difference between waking up from a dream and waking up from passing out and delirium.

 

He was on his bed in a fetal-position.

 

He felt something move under his chin, and found Ari snuggling closer to him.

 

Shit.

 

It was one of those days, huh.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, that was fuckin' weird.
> 
> Leave a comment and some kudos as I mourn my brain from being poop.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life becomes tragic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCK. I honestly cried at one point while writing this omfg. 
> 
> I don't know what songs i did listen at this point, but it was a hell lot of Adele :D
> 
> ALSO I MADE 100k WORDS IM SO PROUD OF MYSELF THO. 
> 
> WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC DETAIL AND REFERENCES TO DEPRESSION. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Lance woke up.

And it wasn’t a nice waking up. It was like a “Oh for fuck’s sake, i’ve been unconscious” kind of waking up. There was the painful throbbing in his head and his tongue feeling like a pile mush. He must have looked horrendously awful. His hand was dry, the kind where it was too smooth and no visible lines on them, like a newborn. When he rubbed them together, he could feel the chalkiness between the fingers. 

 

The ceiling fan above them whirred, a gentle breeze in the room.The sheets smelled like floral laundry detergent. The cotton felt warm and comfortable against his skin. It was probably what baby cartoon sheep was like. 

 

Ari was snuggling into him, his fingers clenching his shirt, and softly breathing. Lance carded his nimble fingers through his fluffy dark hair.

 

Lance wore only his white shirt and blue boxers. He didn’t remember taking his clothes off. 

 

He checked his alarm clock on the bedside table. It was nearly noon. 

 

Lance almost panicked about missing work until he realized it was one of his day-offs. He calmed his racing heartbeat, but Ari must have sensed it. He stirred from his sleep, blinking blearily to his father.

 

“Hey, Cub,” Lance said softly, barely a whisper. “How are you?”

 

“I’m okay,” Ari said, then he asked, “You?”

 

“I’m not doing too well,” Lance said, hugging his son. “It’s...one of those days.”

 

“Oh,” Ari said and then simply said, “Okay.”

 

They fall back into silence again. A small family enjoying their afternoon in white sheets that smelled like detergent. The warm afternoon sun flooded through the blinds, casting a glow behind Ari. His dark hair looked like a golden brown from the light rays. It looked like an eclipse forming behind Ari’s small head, the lustrous glow of the halo. His eyes looked more intense than ever. 

 

Had Keith always seen Lance like that? He had always seen the light hit Keith’s ultra violet eyes, but he had never seen what Keith’s saw when the light hit Lance from behind. 

 

“Yeah,” Lance sighed, sinking further into the sheets. “I should make us some food.”

 

“No,” Ari said, pouting. “Stay in bed.”

 

Lance laughed lightly, patting his head. “C’mon, we’re going to starve if I don’t make something.”

 

“...Fine,” Ari said, huffing slightly. He then gave him one of his ‘Don’t-over-do-it’ smiles. “Order food instead. You don’t have to cook.”

 

“Yeah, I don’t feel like cooking,” Lance said,slowly got up. “I’ll order some take-out, so I’m going to in bed all day.”

 

“Yeah!” Ari said, “No cooking, just stay in bed.”

 

Lance chuckled and then kissed his forehead, “Okay, just stay here and I’ll be right back.”

 

Ari hummed, diving under the covers, the bed bouncing from the weight. 

 

Lance got out of bed, his joints popping as he did. He left the room and into the kitchen, leaning against the counter. He opened the take-out delivery application and typed it in his order. Sure, the service was pretty shit, but they sent him cute delivery boys. Lance’s phone knew he was a ho. 

 

Lance padded back to the room, flopping his body onto the soft covers. 

 

He planted his face onto the pillows, inhaling the scent. He felt incredibly exhausted as if instead of walking a short distance to the kitchen, he had walked a million miles. His bones ached. If he moved, he was sure he could hear them creaking.

 

Ari got up from his place, his hair a wild mess of raven hair. He looked like a sea urchin. 

 

“Did you take your medicine, Papa?” Ari said, cocking his head to the side. “You have to take it cause it’s important.”

 

“Maybe later,” Lance said tiredly.

 

“No, right now,” Ari said, crossing his arms petulantly. “You have to.”

 

“Ari, I will take them later, okay?” Lance said, side-eying him. “Just let me sleep.”

 

Ari looked at him sadly, his lip wobbling. “Please, take them.” 

 

“Ari...I’m tired.”

 

“For me?” Ari said, pleading. “Take them for me?”

 

Lance sighed and then got up. His muscles screaming. “Fine, I’ll take them.”

 

“Thank you,” Ari said, collapsing into the bed. Lance heard him sigh in relief. 

 

Lance opened the drawer that held the yellow bottle. He popped one in. He grabbed the glass on the table and drank its contents. 

 

“Open your mouth,” Ari said. “Say aaaaaah.”

 

Lance chuckled at his behavior, doing as requested. Ari nodded in approval. 

 

“Good!” Ari said, giving him a thumbs up.

 

“Can I sleep now?” Lance asked. 

 

“Yeah, sleep is nice,” Ari said. “You don’t have to do anything today, so just sleep.”

 

“What about you?” Lance asked. 

 

“Me? I’ll go take a bath and wait for the food,” Ari said, propping his chin on his knee. “I’m going to play with Blue while I wait, so don’t worry about me.”

 

“Right, we have a cat now,” Lance said, forgetting about the new pet. He just bought some cat stuff from the pet store yesterday, how could he have forgotten so fast? Then again, he wasn’t in the best mentality. He felt his eyes droop. 

 

“Sleep, Papa,” Ari said with a smile. 

 

“Okay…”

 

.

.

.

 

The next day was the same. It felt like the world was moving too fast. Sleep was hard to get sometimes. It was hard because it felt like a guessing game, or maybe a lottery. Three modes exist: Good dreams, bad dreams and no dreams. Bonus level: Nightmares. 

 

The subconscious was a frightening place. There was no use to elaborate the mechanics of sleep. Lance was no genius, but he knew that you could get lost in your thoughts, but maybe even to be found, but that was for another day. The maze of his brain was something you maneuver on your own. 

 

There were simple ways Lance used to get good sleep such as the scent of fabric softener or a slice of Hunk’s chocolate cake. But all those were for naught if he didn’t take his meds, and so those dreams turned into a hellish dead-space, floating endlessly through terrors and demons. His memories of the accident resurfacing more frequently, losing his thoughts as he became more delusional by his own emotions.

 

It was not an easy task to get good sleep for an insomniac like Lance. 

 

Lance didn’t eat before he slept because, obviously, he’d just throw up when he woke up screaming and feel disgusting all over, struggling to get to the bathroom. Weird stuff like scents, or unwashed covers keep him awake. Slumber interrupting catalyst not only make him uncomfortable, but it made him emotionally unstable. 

 

Lance woke up at some point in the morning before he drifted off into sleep again. It was around the time Ari’s grandparents picked him up. They’ve reached an agreement that Ari would spend every last weekend of the month with them. It was good. It gave Lance some time for himself, some time to reflect. 

 

Through the small sliver of the door, he heard Ari speaking to someone. He can see the outline of their figures. 

 

“Sometimes, Papa is too sick to get up from bed, so I give him happy medicine.”

 

“Happy medicine?”

 

“Hugs,” Ari said, and then explained exuberantly. “Helping Us Get Stronger. Make sure you give him lots of those.”

 

The other person laughed, and then said, “I’ll make sure I will.” 

 

“You better! Those are super important,” Ari said, “or else, I’ll kick your butt.”

 

Lance closed his eyes.

 

.

.

.

 

Lance woke up with dry throat, his tongue feeling like sandpaper. He got up from bed, rubbing his sore throat. He went into the kitchen, searching for a glass in the cupboard. The room was dark. It was night time. He slept through the entire day. That was somehow both a good and bad thing. 

 

Lance jolted when a sudden flash of lightning penetrated the night sky and lit the room, giving out an earth-rumbling thunder in its wake. He held onto the edge of the counter, fist gripping it tightly, catching his breath. It had been raining for a few days. At this point, the city was going to drown. There was a storm brewing in the midst and Lance had to prepare himself in more ways than one. He shivered when another bout of lighting struck, the sound echoing in the room. The weather looked deadly to travel in, he hoped to the gods that Ari arrived safely to his grandparents’ home. The roads looked slippery like… that day.

 

Lance shook his head from his thoughts. They were entering dangerous territory. 

 

Lance heard another rumble, but it wasn’t the thunder this time.

 

It was his stomach. 

 

Right, he needed food to survive.

 

Lance opened the fridge to look for the jar of pesto Hunk gave him. He found them behind a bag of jellybeans. Just as he was about to open the jar, another strike of lightning and he saw electric blue. He dropped the jar, the glass shattering into a million pieces. Lance felt dizzy all of the sudden, dropping to his knees, clutching his head. The world bursted into colorful orbs, slowly fading into black. He heard the ringing in his head, thoughts in a rumble. He clutched the end of the counter, rising to his feet. 

 

He rubbed his eyes when he saw a figure in front of him. Their chin propped on to dainty fingers, an easy smile on their face. Another flash of lighting, allowing him to see golden hair and dim blue eyes. 

 

“Hey, Forehead,” Delilah said. 

 

“Stop it,” Lance said, his voice demanding. “It’s not funny that you keep coming back again.”

 

“What!” Delilah said, placing a hand on their chest, mock hurt on her face. “You don’t miss me? You should be happy I’m right in front of you.”

 

“Delilah, you’re not real,” Lance said tiredly, rubbing his forehead. “Get out of my head.”

 

“Why would I do that?” Delilah said sadly. “I don’t want to leave you alone, little brother.”

 

“Get out,” Lance pleaded. “Just leave me alone.”

 

“How can I?” Delilah said, softly grabbing his hand. Her fingers rubbing circles on the back of it. “Who are you without me, Lance? You’re just a small little boy wandering in this too big world.”

 

“You don’t need to tell me that,” Lance croaked out. “Delilah, the moment they told me your heart stopped beating, mine shattered. I don’t even know why it kept beating.”

 

“It was because of Ari,” Delilah said, “He’s my son.”

 

“He is,” Lance said. “He reminds me so much of you, Delilah. You know he misses you? He doesn’t even know you. Why’d you leave him, Lala?”

 

“I didn’t have a choice,” Delilah said, “It was either him or me and you know that. You tell him those things about me dying either way, but no, I died because of Ari. You think I have a choice to let him die? No way. It wasn’t even a choice. It’s best decision I’ve ever made.”

 

“You can’t know that because you’re dead,” Lance said, “You’re just saying these things because you’re in my head. You didn’t die because of Ari. You died because your heart stopped beating the moment that fucking truck hit you.”

 

“Stop denying the truth, Lancey,” Delilah said, splaying her hands on the marble counter. “How can you live without me? You look at Ari, you look at him hard, and don’t tell me you don’t feel an inch of guilt of lying to him. You think it was hard losing me? You think it was hard that I died? The hardest part wasn’t saying goodbye, Lance. It wasn’t. It was learning to live without me, always trying to fill that gaping hole in your heart.”

 

“Shut up, Delilah,” Lance said, gritting his teeth.

 

“Sometimes you need to hear the words, little brother,” Delilah said, humming. “Just a sad little boy. It’s really pathetic.”

 

“Delilah,” Lance whispered, staring at her downcast eyes. “Just be quiet for like a second.”

 

“You’re getting worse,” she hopped off the stool, and grabbed a towel, running some water on it from the sink. “You’re so sick, Lance. I thought you were getting better.”

 

“Please stop talking!” Lance exclaimed, his voice cracking. Delilah had the towel, patting his face with it. Lance saw red blooming from the cloth, like morning glories starting to curl open, their colors fading into a vibrant shade. The color reminded him of many things. Flower crowns, band aids, and Keith’s jacket. 

 

“Excuse me?” Delilah said, offended. The lightning flash, eyes turning violet. 

 

“Your voice makes me want to puke,” Lance said, wincing from the pressure she was putting. 

 

She rolled her eyes, “If you’re going to throw up again, I might as well leave.”

 

“Don’t,” Lance found himself saying quickly, contradicting his words earlier. “Your smell mediates everything. It makes everything so serene. You smell like lillies and baby cartoon sheep.”

 

“You’re so weird, Forehead,” Delilah said with a smile. “But I really do have to go, you’re about to wake up.”

 

“This is a dream,” Lance said, stating the obvious. 

 

“You said so yourself,” Delilah said, her smile turning into a sad one. “I’m not real.”

 

“What am I going to do now?” Lance asked, finding the silence as an answer. 

 

“I don’t know, little brother. That’s all up to you,” Delilah said with a sigh, but then gave him eyes filled with hope. “It’s time to wake up.”

 

“From this nightmare?”

 

“Whatever, Forehead,” Delilah said, waving her hand flippantly. “Wake up… for me?”

 

“When will I ever wake up for myself?” Lance muttered, and then opened his eyes to find his sister gone. A sudden bout of pain shooting in his head, feeling like a bullet embedding itself in the depth of his brain. It was like the lightning struck inside his mind, the sound reverberating into his skull. His mind screaming in agony, banging against the inner walls. 

 

Lance blinked away the tears and blearily saw black hair and concerned violet eyes. Calloused fingers caressed his cheeks. 

 

“Thank God,” Keith breathed out. In his other hand was a wet towel, an alarming shade of red coating the white cloth. His fingers were pricked with tiny cuts, tiny shards of glasses embedded on the palms of his hands. Every inch of his hands were nicked with tiny holes with blood leaking away. It reminded him of that time he rolled down a steep hill. His arm bent in a wrong way, a large gash was bleeding out of him from landing on a sharp rock. Lance was alone for a few days in the hospital until his friends and family found out. People visited. His friends were there every day. It was the worst few days. Feeling broken, alone, and exhausted. Being alone sucked. 

 

Lance wasn’t alone, but he felt lonely. Even when he was surrounded with people, yet there was that feeling of isolation in his heart. It was an emotional trip. Being alone and feeling lonely weren’t the same. The loneliest moments were when he just stared blankly ahead with no direction, watching the world fall apart right before his eyes.

 

“Lance!” Keith called, patting his cheek. “Fuck, can you hear me?”

 

“H-huh?” Lance spluttered out and tried to get up, his head like a jackhammer on concrete. “Shit, I passed out, didn’t I?”

 

“Yeah, you were,” Keith said, helping him. Lance spotted a pile of broken glass from the corner. 

 

Lance laughed, finding the scenario funny. “For fuck’s sake, I’ve been unconscious.”

 

“Hey, you’re bleeding. That’s nothing to laugh about,” Keith said, eyeing him cautiously. 

 

Lance was shivering and laughing on the tiled floor. He tasted blood on his tongue, a stinging feeling on his lips. He felt the glass digging into his hands. Holy crap...That hurt. He hissed from them embedding deeply into the skin. He felt wetness dripping down his cheeks, yep, he was crying now. 

 

Laughing and crying at same time. He was a bloody mess. He probably looked like a maniac. Through a blur of tears, he saw Keith coming closer to him, saw dark bangs and the eyes that look through right through him. 

 

“Lance...Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Keith whispered, grabbing Lance’s his hand gingerly. 

 

_ This was so embarrassing,  _ Lance thought. At least it was a silent cry, not the loud wailing sounds that made Ari run down the hallway and hug him until he cried himself to sleep. His shoulders shook as the tears went rolling down his cheeks. 

 

Lance’s voice came out into a whisper. “Don’t stare at me. I look like shit.”

 

“No, no you don’t,” Keith said, trying to still his movements. His hand on Lance shoulder, fingers on his face. “It’s okay to cry, Lance.”

 

“I want to be invisible, I don’t want to be seen,” Lance whispered hoarsely. A sudden jolt of pain erupting from his hand, he can feel a nervous hand on his cheek and Lance can’t stop shuddering. There was this incredible aching in his bones. “Leave me alone, please.”

 

“Don’t say that,” Keith said, and added a small smile. “I see you.”

 

Then, he pulled Lance into a hug. His hands behind his back. It was like a scene from a movie. Rain pouring heavily from outside, lightning striking in every minute, thunder following by. The room was a dreary grey, the temperature low from the bad weather. The salt in his tears would turn into dust, evaporating into the air. His pin pricked fingers hanging by his side, trembling, but Keith held them steadily, careful to not touch the glass. 

 

Lance loved fairy tales. He still thought happy endings were bullshit, but times like this make him think about old memories like chapters. Keith was a chapter he kept coming back to, the pages he kept re-reading over and over again night after night until his eyes were red from the tears and pain because his heart hurt from visiting those lovely words of those precious memories. 

But how Lance begin to make a new page for himself when he kept coming back to old chapters?

 

And then he cried into Keith’s shoulder like a child, a snot-nosed little boy wandering in the darkness of an empty home, trying to find a light because some babadook was lurking in the shadows. 

 

“Keith, it hurts so much,” Lance said into his shoulder, teeth grinded on the sleeve of his jacket. Everything eventually slowed down, reducing Lance into some throbbing heap of limbs. “I’m so weak.”

 

“It’s okay to feel like this, Lance.”

 

“No, it’s not,” Lance whispered huskily. “It’s been eight years since the accident. I still can’t stop thinking about it. I’m still put into this disgusting pathetic state.”

 

“Don’t think like that,” Keith said, tangling his fingers into short brown locks. “It’s okay to let it out. For the longest time, I’ve been stuck in this eternal limbo of grieving. I was too deep into hating the world. I’ve lost everyone I’ve cared for, time after time. I was just a kid back then, losing people became so easy to do then, and it still is. Now I’m trying my best to keep the people I care about. I’ve lost you so many times, Lance, but you kept coming back to me because you never gave up on me. You always looked past my flaws and mistakes. I’ve pushed you away. I’ve done a million of unforgivable things, and yet, you’re still here. Lance, I was so fucking scared to let out all my demons and sadness. I was scared of opening up to you because I was scared you’d leave me for good, but that didn’t matter because I lost you anyways.” 

 

“Keith…”

 

“Lance, our relationship was so fucking wrong. The more you came back, the more I took advantage of you. I started to forget that you had standards and limitations. It was like- no, I was abusing you. I wasn’t the right person for you. Those days when you were gone, I had a lot of thinking. I wasn’t ready to open up to, so what was the point of staying together? I knew we weren’t right for each other. 

 

“The only way I thought would have made you let me go was for you to start hating me, start resenting me more. I did more of those things because I know I would never let go of you if I tried, so I wanted you to do it. It was better to have you break it off because I kept breaking your heart with every unfulfilled promise.”

 

“Why are you telling me this?” Lance whispered weakly.

 

“I’m trying to say there was no use of you coming back to me. We just kept fighting. You were fighting only to get lied to, be taken to be granted for,be disappointed again. I was fighting for you to let me go. You didn’t serve to be treated that way. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have spent so much time overthinking our relationship. You wouldn’t be stressing because how unhappy I made you. What was even the point of staying with someone who cause you so much sadness, Lance?”

 

Lance cried, gripping his shirt. “I loved you so much, Keith. Why’d you leave?”

 

“I had to, Lance,” Keith said, wrapping his arms around him tighter. “I had to learn to be a better person and I’m sorry you weren’t able to do that sooner, but you taught me to be happy. Trying to change was something I had to do on my own.”

 

“Why’d you let me break us up,” Lance said, “It was so hard...and then accident happened. I was a fucking mess.”

 

“I wanted you to have the power to break us up. You deserve that much. You’re allowed to walk away from people who hurt you so much. You’re allowed to be angry, selfish, and sad. You don’t owe me, or anyone an explanation for taking care of yourself. You’re allowed to be...happy.”

 

That was the entire explanation. The thing Lance had been begging from Keith. Keith didn’t leave Lance because of Shiro. Keith wanted to leave Lance because he prioritized Lance’s happiness over his own. The disappearance of Shiro was only a contributing factor. The weight of him beared Keith down. Shiro was so important to Keith, he was his brother. 

 

Lance suddenly realizing this was so earth shattering. They were in the same predicament. Keith lost his brother, Lance lost his sister. They were both complete utter mess. Keith wasn’t ready for a relationship, just like Lance. Lance can’t be in a relationship when he was still figuring out himself. The fact that Keith was trying was like some kind of beacon of hope in this hellish dead space. 

 

Staying in a toxic relationship was not beautiful. It was not poetic whatsoever. They were just completely lost and in love with each other, trying to ignore the problems that came with it. What was beautiful was trying to move on from that relationship. Moving on from a person was a different story. Keith wanted to focus on fixing himself, and that was not selfish. Keith hated on what he had become, letting grief and hatred shape himself. When he found Shiro, he started rebuilding himself. He wanted to learn to like himself, regardless what other people thought of him. There was no flower more beautiful than one after a harsh storm. Keith was red morning glories waking up from a dark night. 

 

“Lance, I wanted you to help yourself,” Keith said, rubbing circles on his back. “I wanted you to control your own life.”

 

“...Thank you,” Lance said, and took a shuddering breath. “You’ve gotten really good at talking, Mullet.”

 

“I’ve had some practice,” Keith said laughing. “You know, I would have never forgotten you. You just...look so different now.”

 

“People change,” Lance said, shrugging. “You still look the same, just with less piercings.”

 

“Yeah,” Keith said, fiddling with the lip ring. “Hm, this thing is getting a bit annoying. I should throw it out.”

 

“Your choice, Mullet,” Lance said with a laugh. 

 

Keith took the ring out and then threw it into a trash can.

 

“You’ve gotten better with your aim too,” Lance said, impressed. 

 

“That was a lucky shot,” Keith said, even amazed at his own action. “I have horrible eyesight.”

 

“I’ve never seen you wear glasses,” Lance said, cocking his head to the side.

 

“Really? I’ve always had them,” Keith said incredulously. 

 

“I guess you never wore them around me,” Lance said, “I think you look nice with them.” 

 

Who was Lance kidding to? Keith looked unfairly hot with them.

 

“Thanks,” Keith said. 

 

Lance leaned back on his palms, instantly regretting his action when he felt the glass digging into the skin. He hissed in pain. 

 

Keith clicked his tongue. “Where do you keep your first-aid kit?”

 

“Medicine cabinet,” Lance said, wincing. 

 

“Be right back.”

 

.

.

.

 

_ “You want me to what?” _

 

_ Hunk and Pidge glanced at each other and then they both sighed.  _

 

_ Pidge crossed their arms, “We want you to break up with Keith.” _

 

_ “Isn’t that my own choice to make?” Lance said. He was bewildered by their request.  _

 

_ “It is,” Pidge said, plopping down on the bed. “We just want you to know what we think.” _

 

_ “I don’t think it’s any of your business,” Lance said, crossing his arms together.  _

 

_ “Lance, will you just look at yourself?” Hunk said, “You’re miserable.” _

 

_ Lance scoffed. “I am not. I love Keith. Isn’t that what matters the most?” _

 

_ “So your happiness doesn’t matter?” Pidge said gruffly. “Lance, you’re becoming a person you don’t even like. Hell, you’ve been treating us like shit.” _

 

_ “What? You should have said something then,” Lance said, frowning. “You can’t let me treat you guys like shit. You have to call me out.” _

 

_ “What do you think we’re doing?” Pidge said, “You’re becoming someone we don’t know anymore.” _

 

_ “How many times have you cried yourself to sleep because of him?” Hunk asked, “How many times did you stress over him? You should have been more focused on your deadlines, Lance, but you’ve been too busy worrying over what the hell Keith’s been doing.” _

 

_ “Keith is more important than my deadlines,” Lance said. _

 

_ “Do you even hear yourself?!” Pidge said, “You’re really going to give up because of some boy? A boy who doesn’t even try to even care for you?” _

 

_ “If you can’t even communicate with each other, then it’s impossible to have a relationship with him,” Hunk said in a calm voice.  _

 

_ “Aren’t you getting tired with this shit? This feels impossible to work out. You keep giving him chances, and yet, he still manages to disappoint you,” Pidge said. “You have to let him go.” _

 

_ “I can’t!” Lance yelled, backing away. “It’s so impossible. You don’t get it, okay!? Have you ever been so in love with someone that it just consumes you? There are times that I cry so hard that my body aches and I have to put my face into my pillow to shut myself up from screaming out of frustration. There are times that I feel so unconditionally in love and happy and I think that universe conspired to get us together, and there are the nights where I don’t feel anything at all, but you think that I can’t let Keith out of my mind? He’s always going to be there. My brain replays it over again because I can’t forget to who Keith is really to me!” _

 

_ “He’s going to fucking break your heart, which he already has by the way,” Pidge said, voice cracking. “And you’re just going to let that happen. You’re fucking crazy. Both of you just trying to control each other and just pretending all things are fine.” _

 

_ “That’s how a relationship works,” Lance said, “You’ve never been in one, so don’t fucking tell me what to do.” _

 

_ “Lance…” _

 

_ “We haven’t spoken in days, and I’m trying to be okay with that.” _

 

_ Lance was a tsunami, raging waters and waves of sorrow. It was seismic tremor of emotions. It was like crashing down the city, filling every single orifice with water. Destruction. Maybe love was the tsunami, and Lance was the city that drowned in it. There have been, and continued to have, profound changes in his life, shifting the tectonic plates of rage and melancholy.  _

 

_ Is that how love was supposed to feel like? That’s what depression feels like. It was the ocean ebbing in small waves, culminating into something bigger. The water was calm and still, but sometimes it becomes overwhelming, all we can do was to try stay afloat.Like he was trying to drown the demons, but they knew how to swim. It scared him. _

 

_ Lance was so in love with Keith, but Lance was getting used to the fact he wasn’t going to be enough for him anymore. Their relationship was like shattered glass. Sometimes it was better leave it be than to try to put it back together and shattering it some more out of frustration.  _

 

_ “Lance, your relationship with Keith is no longer alive. Quit trying to revive it. It’s done,” Pidge said harshly. “Stop beating a dead horse.” _

 

_ “How would you know!?” Lance exclaimed. It felt so wrong to be belittled by Pidge in these types of things. Pidge just loved being better than him at anything, like they thrived to just shit on his life choices.  _

 

_ “Maybe it’s when you’re more in love with the memories rather than the actual person,” Pidge said. _

 

_ “Explain this to me, Pidge, how can you expect me to unhinge myself from my most basic desires?” _

 

_ “Lance, we’re not telling you to stop loving people,” Hunk said with a sigh, “It’s one of your best traits. You care so much for people. You leave chunks of yourself with them, but I also think it’s one of your worst traits. You keep...giving in too easily, letting yourself get  heartbroken.”  _

 

_ That was one way to say it. It was just like how people left your life. Just being a vaguely familiar face and a hello as if all the memories weren’t enough to be remembered. Just like that, how people become strangers too easily.  _

 

_ Lance’s life was full of fairytales and tragic endings. He had chapters he didn’t want to say out loud. Goodbyes hurt when the story wasn’t finished and the book was ended too soon, only left to be gathered in the dust.  _

 

_ You won’t really be the same person. Part of your heart will always be elsewhere. That was the price to pay for loving someone too much.  _

 

_ “...Should I really do it?” Lance asked, hugging himself. It was like he was protecting himself from the words. Like it was being slapped by God’s creeds and commandments. Creating deliverance with contradictory bullshit.  _

 

_ Hunk and Pidge glanced at each other. _

 

_ Hunk gave him a sad smile, “It’s your choice, buddy.” _

 

_ “We’re just pointing out...what you never wanted to hear,” Pidge said carefully.  _

 

_ “The truth, you mean,” Lance said sardonically. “Thank you. I guess I’ve been living in a funk.” _

 

_ “You’ve had a stressful week,” Hunk commented. _

 

_ “He’s had a stressful month,” Pidge corrected, hitching their glasses with their middle finger. They went into the fridge, handing Lance a carton of vanilla ice cream. Hunk handed him a spoon. “I hope you’ve come to understand why we had this meeting.” _

 

_ “Well, you’ve been uncharacteristically nice,” Lance said, hiding his smile behind the spoon.  _

 

_ Pidge raised an eyebrow, and as usual with her sharp tongue,, “You didn’t let me finish. You’re going to be okay and whatever, so get your shit together.”  _

 

_ There was Pidge. Back at it again with the honey and sass. _

 

_ Hunk groaned. “C’mon, Pidge. He’s having a hard time. Just tone down the snark for a bit.”  _

 

_ “I’ll do it,” Lance said, and then added resolutely, as if needing to clarify, “I’m breaking up with Keith.” _

 

_ “We’ll be there for you,” Hunk said, patting his back reassuringly. “No matter what.” _

 

_ And then he pulled Lance into a hug. His thick arms wrapping around him, strong hands on his back. “You’ve had a tough life, Lance, but I’m not going to say it’ll get easier, but it’s good if you try to remove the negativity that surrounds you.” _

 

_ “Ain’t that the truth,” Pidge muttered from behind them. _

 

_ “Aw, Pidgey,” Lance cooed, grinning,“You’re not joining the group hug? It’s one of Hunk’s! Those are the best ones you know.” _

 

_ Pidge rolled their eyes. At this point, from the amount of times they’ve rolled their eyes, they could be stuck at the back of their head.  _

 

_ Lance felt their icy, gremlin hands around him. Hee yelped from the touch. “Jesus, Pidge, you have poor blood circulation.” _

 

_ “Oh, don’t be such a baby,” Pidge said.  _

 

_ “Guys, we’re having a moment here!” Hunk said, squeezing them tighter. “You know? Hugs are the best kind of medicine.” _

 

_ Pidge groaned. “Oh boy, here he goes–” _

 

_ “Helping Us Get Stronger,” Hunk said, beaming brightly. “Don’t ever forget that!” _

 

_ The sun was setting. Hopefully his mind was set as well. _

 

_ The television was playing, almost like background music. _

 

**_“...The Bureau of Meteorology has issued a thunderstorm warning with heavy rainfall expected across the region. Thunderstorms are likely to produce heavy rainfall that may lead to slick roads and flooding...”_ **

  
  
  
  


_. _

_. _

_. _

  
  
  


Lance sat on the toilet seat, face pinched in pain. Keith was sitting across him, medicine kit by his side. He had a pair of tweezers in his hand. He was holding Lance’s hand, studying the damages. Keith was being gentle as he poured rubbing alcohol over the gashes. He winced from the stinging, thrashing slightly from the sudden onslaught of pain. Lance could feel tiny tears accumulate in the corner of his eyes. Lance felt dizzy, squeezing his eyes shut. Was it from blood loss? Pain? Or was it from Keith’s sudden caring touch?

 

Keith noticed the scrunched look on his face. “Lance, are you okay?”

 

Lance flushed from the look he gave him. “I’m fine.”

 

Keith didn’t look convinced, placing his hands gently to the side as he finished patching up his wounds. He got up as he leveled his gaze at him. Lance flushed even more. 

 

“You look red,” said Keith, bringing his hand up Lance’s forehead, careful to not touch the bandage on it. He pushed away the bangs away, hand gingerly touching the heated skin. He sighed in discouragement. 

 

Lance became more flustered with his close proximity, recalling hushed whispers and their crazy antics from their younger days. Lance swallowed the lump forming in his throat, trying to calm his racing heart beat. 

 

“You should rest,” Keith said, leaning away. “You’re burning up.”

 

“I do feel tired,” Lance said, yawning. “I seem to be exhausted a lot these past few days.”

 

“You look exhausted,” Keith commenting, cocking his head to the side. “C’mon, Hunk and Pidge just texted me a few minutes ago, they’re coming to check on you.”

 

“Oh God, they’re going to baby me and fuss,” Lance said with a groan.

 

Keith laughed. “You seem to get in these types of situations a lot.”

 

“You know, this reminds me about those times I used to care for you own battle scars, mister.”

 

“Oh, those were the days,” Keith said dryly. 

 

“You betcha!”

 

.

.

.

  
  


Lance woke up with a start, his eyes filling with tears again. He pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes. The dull throbbing in his hands were mild compared to the pain inside of him. The crash replayed in his head over and over. The road slick with rain. Delilah’s limp hand, her wedding ring glinting dimly in hospitals lights. 

 

It was obvious he had a hard time with facing reality. The smell of fuel leaking from the car overwhelmed his senses, too intense for words. It was hard to learn how to breathe properly. The car had flipped so many times that Lance had become disorientated before he even sustained the concussion that had him drifting in and out of his dreams. He was fleetingly aware of the bloody taste in his mouth. It was from him grinding his teeth too hard. 

 

Then, his eyelids would flutter open and he would remember where he was. Home.

 

But why could he feel the cold and the sound of rain on metal? Why the pain, why so much pain? 

 

Why could he feel his body hit the hood of the car and his throat growing raw from screaming?Bones and muscles and joints and organs feeling like they were being crumbled and smashed into a tiny box. Lungs contracted with such force, almost collapsing in on itself.

 

His torso and head were smashed up against the windshield while arms and legs were flailing, searching for somewhere to hold and stop the forward movement. The world must have kept flickering its light switch because his vision kept flashing from complete darkness to blinding white light. The only sound that echoed was the crushing of glass mixed with the distinct crackles of bones. Then suddenly, everything became rushing in colors, eyes blinking wide in a familiar bedroom. 

 

Lance sighed, getting off bed. There was no use, he can’t sleep well. A flash of lightning erupted from the sky outside his window. Lance loved thunderstorms for some reason. There was something calming about it. Tragically beautiful. Delilah used to tell him that the gods were just playing bowling, and it made Lance laugh so hard. It was such a bitter memory now. 

 

Lance climbed out of the window, sitting on the fire escape, back against brick walls, toes curling against cold metal. His pajama bottoms bunched by the ankles. It was nice sit out there and think for a moment. He did that now, staring at the sky with tired eyes.

 

Thunderstorms reminded him of crying. The heavy rains were sobs and the crackle of lightning were the broken screams, shouts, or the pleading cries. The cloud held a lonely soul, constantly searching for the sun. The light of life. Lance liked the way rain landed on his skin, cooling and wet. It was like being cleansed. The storm was a pain to be released.

 

He felt the wind mussing his hair, like a gentle whisper against his ear, and a kiss to his cheek.

 

_ “Hold me close and hold me fast _ __  
_ The magic spell you cast _ _  
_ __ This is la vie en rose”

 

Lance got startled, almost having a heart attack on the spot.  _ Jesus fucking Christ.  _ He jerked his head to the side finding no one other than him outside. Lance took a moment to think logically. Someone must have been outside as well, He relaxed a bit, leaning back against the wall. He heard the singing voice and wondered. 

 

_ “When you kiss me, Heaven sighs _ __  
_ And though I close my eyes _ _  
_ __ I see la vie en rose”

 

Lance closed his eyes, listening to the song. 

 

_ “When you press me to your heart _ __  
_ I'm in a world apart _ _  
_ __ A world where roses bloom”

 

The voice sounded so sad...and broken.

 

_ “And when you speak _ __  
_ Angels sing from above _ __  
_ Everyday words seem _ _  
_ __ To turn into love songs”

 

“Holy shit,” Lance whispered. He continued to listen in, chin on his knee. His memories coming into mind. Pain. Tragedy. Happiness. Hurt. Love.

 

_ “Give your heart and soul to me _ __  
_ And life will always be _ _  
_ __ La vie en rose”

 

Finding someone you love and who loves you back was a wonderful feeling, but finding your true soulmate was an even better feeling. A soulmate is someone who understands you like no other, loves you unconditionally like no other. They’ll be there for you no matter what. Nothing lasts forever is said by people,, but Lance was an optimist on these types of things. He believed that love lived even longer than that. It was just that...precious. It was why people were left bitter most of the time, but maybe it was only the matter of finding the right person. It won’t necessarily be a significant other. It could be anyone.

 

.

.

.

 

“The times you lived through, the people you shared those times with — nothing brings it all to life like an old mix tape. It does a better job of storing up memories than actual brain tissue can do. Every mixtape tells a story. Put them together, and they can add up to the story of a life.” 

―  **Rob Sheffield** ,  **Love Is a Mix Tape**

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JUST KIDDING, I LISTENED TO LA VIE EN ROSE! <3
> 
> I wonder who sang that? HMMMMM...?
> 
> ( tbh, I don't know what's going to be the endgame of this story D: FML. )
> 
> leave a kudos and a comment! It helps me out a lot. Honestly, i just get work faster whenever I see some feedback ^^"


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiatus is over! FINALLY! NGHHHHH.
> 
> This is basically: I'm not dead and its a filler chapter!

The cafe Lance went to was a quaint and tiny place tucked in the corner of Main Street. Potted plants sat beneath window panes. There was water dripping down the red and white striped canopy, into the dark pavement. People walked in and out of the glass doors. Inside, there were people drinking coffee, typing away on the their laptops; Indie-hipster music played softly through speakers. The whole place was a terrible cliche. 

 

It had been a good Sunday afternoon. The golden light arching over the city with warm honey. It was a good day for Lance;he finished his deadline on time, his skin looked healthy, and he managed to find a good flower shop for Hunk.

 

He wore his long knitted blue jumper, the sleeves going past his knuckle, dark washed jeans and high-cut converse shoes that looked like they have seen better days. He waited in line, texting Hunk his words of encouragement. He chuckled lightly as Hunk spammed him with hundred photos of flowers. 

 

Hunk sent him a photo of him being barefoot. He sent a smiley emoji with a drop of sweat. 

 

**Hunk**

I gave my shoes to a homeless guy.

 

**Lance**

You big cinnamon roll you. Why must you do this?

 

**Hunk**

I couldn’t just stand there! The dude’s toes were blue, Lance. BLUE.

 

**Lance**

Blue is the warmest color, they say

 

**Hunk**

OR the color of poor blood circulation. I’m trying to help this guy fight off hypothermia.

  
  


Lance smiled wryly. Random acts of kindness permeated Hunk’s life; Giving food to the needy, volunteering in charities, but never blood drives because Hunk could never handle the smell or sight of it. One of the reasons why Hunk gave up the idea of becoming a doctor. He liked the sight of oil on his hands, dirty underneath his nails. Unlike Hunk, Lance had blood on his hands. 

 

He nearly dropped his phone when he felt a sudden tap on his shoulder. He calmed his racing heart, turned around to find Ari’s teacher. 

 

“Hey!” Plaxum said, grinning. “Did I scare you?”

 

She was dressed casually. She wore a seashell printed crop top that dipped on one shoulder and a pair denim high-waisted shorts. A weaved tote bag on her shoulder. Her hair styled into a fishtail braid. A pair of sandals with various beads on the strap. There was a starfish toe ring.

 

Lance laughed dryly, “Very funny.”

 

She giggled and then said, “It’s funny seeing you here.”

 

“This is my usual place,” Lance said, pocketing his vibrating phone. Hunk can wait. “I should say that to you.”

 

“I was shopping some things for the kids’ projects,” Plaxum said, showing him a paper bag. “I thought I could get a frap while I was here.”

 

“What are you getting?” Lance asked, glancing towards the chalked menu. There was a wide range of choices that could lead to diarrhea of the mouth. 

 

“Caramel?” Plaxum said after a moment, eyeing the other choices. “What do you suggest?”

 

“Caramel is good,” Lance said approvingly. The line moved and Lance ordered his latte. Before the barista left, he added, “And a caramel frappuccino.”

 

“Wait, you don’t have to do that!” Plaxum squawked, arms flailing.

 

The employee nodded, a smile in place. She eyed the woman next to Lance, who was gawking at him. “You guys make a cute couple.”

 

And then it was Lance’s turn to gawk, switching from Plaxum’s blushing face to the cheeky barista. Lance wondered that maybe the coffee bean fumes were getting to her head.  “She’s not my girlfriend.”

 

“Oooh,” she said, grinning. “First date?”

 

“No!” Plaxum said loudly and then covered her mouth, reddening in embarrassment.

 

“Listen,” Lance glanced at the woman’s name tag, “Ezor, we’re just friends.”

 

There was just something about Plaxum that felt comfort, but not in a lovers way. It felt more like drinking hot chocolate after a rainy day, wearing wool socks and a large sweater. It just felt… new.

 

“Alright, whatever you say,” Ezor said and then squinted, leaning into his space. “Do I know you? You look familiar.”

 

“Well, I’ve been coming here for years,” Lance said with a shrug. “I’m pretty much a regular.”

 

Ezor hummed, dropping the idea. She whipped her long ponytail, nearly smacking Lance with it. 

 

“So, you want to share a table?” Lance asked, smiling. “It’s pretty crowded.”

 

“Sure,” Plaxum said as they maneuvered through the other tables to the empty one by the window.

 

Lance tapped his fingers against the table. They were as thin as spider legs.

 

“The weather is pretty good today,” said Lance, cringing at the topic. It was a rather lame attempt at creating a conversation. It was like Plaxum had this power to completely put Lance in a stump. 

 

Nevertheless, she laughed. “It is nice, bit cold and murky for my taste.”

 

Plaxum talked like she was filling up an invisible questionnaire, no one asked her questions, but she talked quickly, maybe answering the silence between them. Each word was stretched to fill in the gaps. 

 

“Right, you’re from the island life,” Lance said, recalling her early words. 

 

“It’s a beautiful place,” Plaxum said, feeling nostalgic. “Clear beaches, white sand, blue water.”

 

“That reminds me of Varadero,” Lance said, remembering his own place of birth. “I miss the beach.”

 

“I’ve been wanting to visit one,” Plaxum said with a small smile. 

 

“There’s a gravel beach,” Lance said, “It’s not the same, but it feels nice to dip your feet in the cool water.”

 

“That sounds amazing,” she said with a sigh, dropping her chin on a fist. “I’d love to go there, see the ocean.”

 

“I could take you there,” Lance said without thinking. He flushed in embarrassment. “If you want.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” said Plaxum with a dazzling smile. 

  
  


.

.

.

  
  


“This is beautiful,” Plaxum said with a breathy voice. Her hair whipping against the salty breeze. Her shirt was gently ruffling from the soft wind. She closed her eyes, smiling against the sensation.

 

“Well, it’s not home,” Lance said, scratching the back of his neck. 

 

“But it’s close,” Plaxum said, turning to face Lance. “We all share the same sky, so I think that counts.”

 

“Yeah,” Lance said, kicking the pebbled shore. He looked up into the sky, maybe staring face to face with some unfair god. The sky was filled with unanswered prayers. “That’s one way to put it.”

 

“It’s a good feeling,” Plaxum said, sighing pleasantly. “It’s like quiet voices in the air, whispering against my ears.”

 

“Poetic,” Lance commented, closing his eyes. “Kind of like the language of ghosts.”

 

“Once you look up in the sky, you just feel the miles between the people you love just disappear,” Plaxum said a bit sadly. Her face crumbled a bit, but it returned back to her familiar smile. Her eyes were just like the clouds, filled with unshed tears. The eyes can tell so much than the words that come out of your mouth.

 

“Ari told me that if we dream about the people we love, then we won’t feel apart,” Lance said, chuckling at the fond memory. “I guess that goes the same with the sky. Sharing the same stars, but with different oceans.”

 

Some people do drugs, some people run, and some just stare at the sky. Clouds are motionless as the day passed. It’s all the same in the end. People whisper things into their pillows and Lance knew how his friends do when they hit rock bottom. Pidge looked at an empty black computer screen, Hunk’s food taste burnt, and Keith punched walls and screamed. Trying to search a small sliver of peace, taking a silver lining between the clouds, a small gap or a hole that gives us some kind of shelter from the terrible reality, but you have to keep your feet stuck to the ground.

 

Plaxum laughed, maybe a tiny bit bitterly laced in her tone. “I always wonder if I never met these people, would I still feel like this?”

 

“I don’t want to imagine that,” Lance said, his heart clenching at the thought. “You thinking about someone?”

 

“Just a person in my life,” Plaxum said, humming. “Just a good person.”

 

“If you don’t mind me asking, who is it?”

 

“Lori,” Plaxum said, shoulders shaking when she breathed and then added hesitantly, “Someone back home. I miss her a lot.”

 

“You should visit her,” Lance said, putting his hands in his pockets. “Maybe even call. I’ve learned to not take advantage of those moments.”

 

Plaxum gave him a small smile and stared at Lance for the longest moment. Lance was rendered speechless. She bowed her head, breaking the intense eye contact. Her eyes were the color of weeping willows.

 

“Yeah, maybe I will. She was an unstoppable person, always trying to find the positive things in her day. She didn’t have much, but she tried to go on despite those things. She was the bravest person I knew,” Plaxum said with a shrug.

 

“Hm,” Lance hummed, taking in the description. “Sounds like my sister. She was the bravest person I knew. Always so headstrong and even if she was scared, she would still go on. It was really admirable. You can love someone, but you can’t ever love them as much you miss them.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“What are you sorry about?” Lance asked, surprised. 

 

“I know who you’re talking about. That woman in the pictures,” Plaxum said, kicking the gravel. “Delilah, right? Ari’s mother.”

 

Lance paused, too shocked for words. “How did you know?”

 

“Ari talks to me,” Plaxum said, twirling a lock of her long hair. “He… misses her. I don’t know. I don’t know the whole story, Lance.”

 

“I’m honestly shocked that he told you about that,” Lance said, swallowing a lump in his throat. “He doesn’t open up a lot if you don’t know about that. He’s difficult person to crack.”

 

“I didn’t force him if that’s what you’re saying,” Plaxum said. “He’s human too, he has his moments. Vulnerable moments.”

 

Lance felt something twist in his stomach. There was something about Ari keeping secrets from him that made him feel uneasy. It felt like he didn’t truly know what Ari was actually feeling. Does that make him a failure of a father?

 

Ari didn’t like sports, didn’t like arts and crafts, and he didn’t like other kids his own age. He liked books and being left alone. He liked voicing out his own opinion and didn’t have a filter, but sometimes Ari said the wrong things and it comes out much harsher and raw than it really was.

 

This was perhaps why Lance’s parents gave him slightly wary looks whenever they ask how things are at home. 

 

Lance was too nice, too energetic, and too much. Maybe the only reason he and Ari got along was that they were related. Hell, Ari and Keith have a mutual understanding because they are just too similar. 

 

“Fuck,” Lance said, gripping his hair. “I’m way too busy at work. I should… spend more time with him.”

 

Lance felt so much love for Ari to the point where it fucking hurt. It was like staring at Delilah’s face. You don’t know real pain until you see someone you love hurt. Lance knew he had friends, so many people in his life, but how? How can you begin to say that you wake up from your nightmares, seeing your dead sister’s limp body, and just wanting to bash your skull against the wall because of the image burning into your mind forever? Things become too much, and Lance just didn’t feel like anyone was ever going to understand how he felt.

 

Seriously. How fucking sad do you have to be when you get hurt so much and just say,  _ “I’m used to it.” _

 

Lance’s thoughts ruined him, but the silence was killing him too. Thoughts were creeping into his head. Thoughts that scared him.

 

Plaxum grabbed his hands. “Hey, wanna get in the water?”

 

“I didn’t bring any spare clothes,” Lance said lamely. 

 

“We were going to dip our feet in, yeah?” Plaxum said, “Cold water feels good against your toes. It’s good to focus more on that.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Lance said and starting taking his shoes off, rolling his pants above his ankles.

 

Plaxum shook off her sandals, and then ran towards the beach. 

 

“Fucking ouch,” Lance said, cringing from the sharp rocks.

 

He saw the waves coming towards him. He walked tentatively into the ocean, feel the cool water against his skin. He closed his eyes.

 

.

.

.

  
  


_ Lance coughed out the water, cringing at the twinge of saltiness on his tongue. Delilah was sitting on her surfboard, looking at her younger brother unimpressively. Her hair was bunched up into messy high bun, small drops of the ocean running down her arms.  _

 

_ “Well, that was a fail,” Delilah said dully.  _

 

_ “You’re supposed to teach me!” Lance exclaimed, floundering to get up on his board. “You suck!” _

 

_ Delilah rolled her eyes, leaning towards him. “You’re supposed to keep your feet apart, use your hips to maneuver to the sides.” _

 

_ “Well, we can’t all be Shakira!” Lance said with a bite, “Should I say le ro lo le lo le, too?” _

 

_ “Don’t be a smartass,” Delilah said, crossing her arms together, raising an eyebrow at him. “It’s all about balance. Try again.” _

 

_ “Ugh!” Lance said, but listened to her anyways. He started paddling towards an incoming wave. He started to get up on the deck, going for a crouching positions, legs apart. As he swerved towards the side, using his hips, and then he… he was surfing.  _

 

_ “Don’t look down!” Delilah exclaimed, cupping her hands together. “Look up and just go with flow!” _

 

_ Lance nodded, and kept his eyes in front of the horizon. The sun was glaring overhead and he had to squint to protect from its rays covering his vision. The wave was growing bigger and Lance squished the tiny bit of fear in his head. _

 

_ “Don’t be scared!” Delilah said. There was a grin on her face. “Focus on nothing but only yourself!” _

 

_ And then, Lance did, only focusing on the waves, the salt water sprinkling all over his body, the tangy taste residing on his tongue, the sun on his shoulders.  _

 

_ Lance laughed, “I’m doing it!” _

 

_ “You are!” Delilah said, laughing as well, “Go! Lance! Go!” _

 

_ And Lance swerved to the side, toppling into the water.  _

 

_ He went up with a gasp, but a grin was overtaking his features.  _

 

_ “Was I awesome?” _

 

_ “Totally!” Delilah said, clapping exuberantly. “I’m so proud of you!” _

  
  


_. _

_. _

_. _

  
  
  


Lance returned home with a smile, shaking his head at the memories of the day. The room was dark, only a window that letting in the glow of the afternoon sun. Shadows casted through the two figures sitting on the shabby carpet. The blue paint stain was still there, looking out of place. It brought Lance comfort. Lance was sentimental, so it’s hard to let go of things.

 

He and Delilah used to play and huddle on the carpet. Mike’s books stacked underneath scratch papers. X’s and O’s in blue and pink crayon because they weren’t mature enough for pencils or trying to grasp the remnants of childhood innocence. Lance still had that box of crayola.

 

Ari and Keith are practicing as usual. Hunk was too busy planning the proposal. Calloused fingers plucking sharp strings. Lance tried playing guitar once, he ended up getting too many cuts. Strings are worse than paper cuts, so Lance learned piano. He didn’t remember when was the last time he played. 

 

Keith was barefoot, curling and uncurling his toes. Blossoming flowers do the same thing. Just like morning glories. Hair a ruffled mess, cow licks sticking up like random weeds on fine grass. 

 

Ari looked up from the ukulele in his arms, confusion on his face. “Why are you smiling?”

 

Keith was next to him, leaning against his arms. Keith was all toned muscle and black ink. He had some roses etched into his skin. Those were Lance’s idea. Roses were so cliche, and Lance loved every single bit of it. He had a love and hate relationship with all things cliche. He remembered tracing his fingers on vines and thorns until it reached right on Keith’s heart. Lips peppering butterfly kisses. The lost and listless days of brushed fingers and wild flowers. “Yeah, it’s pretty...creepy.”

 

“What?” Lance said, pouting. “Am I not allowed to smile?”

 

Ari shook his head, “You just looked like the Joker.”

 

“Thank you,” Lance said dryly, wringing his hands, feeling the pop and crack on his joints. “I just had a nice day. I bumped into someone and we just spent the rest of our time together.”

 

“Oh, did you spend time with Ms. Plaxum?” Ari said, giving him a coy smirk. He glanced at Keith who was suddenly becoming very quiet. “She’s nice.”

 

“Yes and I had a great time,” Lance said with a roll of his eyes, dropping his keys in a bowl.  “She’s good company.”

 

“Hm, she is pretty,” Ari said, nodding his head. His hair was frizzier than usual. “Reaaaally preeeeeetty.”

 

“Yes, she is,” Lance said with a laugh. 

 

“Right, Keith?” Ari said, giving him a raised eyebrow. “Don’t you think Ms. Plaxum is a beautiful person?”

 

Keith jolted, coughing to his side. “Uh, yeah… She seems nice.”

 

“Yeah, she’s super nice!” Ari said, nudging Keith. “I bet she’s single.”

 

“Ari, you know that Keith is gay, right?” Lance said, giving him an odd look. 

 

“I know,” Ari said, and started strumming the strings of his instrument. “I’m just telling Keith.”

 

Keith deadpanned at him, staring at Ari with very tired eyes. “Yeah, thanks for that.”

 

“No problemo,” Ari said, smirking. “It would be a shame if Ms. Plaxum would get a boyfriend.”

 

“Ari, what are you insinuating?” Lance said, putting his coat on the rack. He gave Ari this look, the what-the-quiznak-are-you-hiding look. 

 

“Oh, nothing!” Ari said, fluttering his eyelashes innocently. “So I do this, right?”

 

Keith was glaring at him, but that was his default expression, so it’s hard to tell. “No,  _ don’t do that. _ ”

 

The conversation continued on with a good banter. Back and forth. Back and forth. Comebacks turned into broken fits of laughter. Strewn pillows were thrown against each other. Keith was laughing and it’s the kind you hear after a thunderstorm running through the drizzle, feeling the roof under you and you laugh in relief. You made it. You’re safe.

 

.

.

.

  
  


Ari didn’t have many friends.

 

Most of the time, it was hard for Ari to communicate well with other kids his age despite the hefty abundance of cousins he had, but that does not stop him from being the quiet kid reading a book in the corner. 

 

Maybe it was the orphan factor, maybe he was anti-social, or maybe he was just shy. Fact is, Ari did not have many friends and that worried Lance. 

 

When he found Ari with yet another book that was way beyond his years, Lance cleared his throat. Ari turned his head up from his book, a curious look on his face. 

 

Ari sat on what was dubbed ‘ _ the thinking chair _ ’. There was a large bookshelf that reached up to the ceiling. Paper cranes floating by thin strings. They remind Lance of piano wires. Potted plants on the window ledge, on the floor, on the side table. It was a good place to think, but most of time, thinking was a very dangerous pastime.

 

Lance thought he was good at reading people, good at body language, but Ari was an enigma. Even after eight years of knowing his son, Lance did not fully understand Ari’s thought process. He didn’t know what’s gearing up in Ari’s head. Sometimes, Lance watched Sherlock on Netflix and deemed himself an expert at figuring out people. 

 

“Do you have friends?” Lance asked bluntly, his inner self berating him for his brash question. 

 

Ari was reading a book about butterflies and metamorphosis. Nature said what people shouldn’t do, what kind of person you are. Nature told Ari not to open up and not get close to people.

 

“I do,” Ari said.

 

“Why don’t you ever… leave the house?”

 

“Do you want me to leave?” Ari asked.

 

“Well, no,” Lance said, trying to string his words together. “It would be nice to know who your friends are.”

 

“You want to meet my friends,” Ari said flatly. “Well, I guess… it’s okay.”

 

“Really?” Lance said, trying to keep the excitement down.

 

“Sure,” Ari said with a shrug. “I met her in the library.”

  
  


.

.

.

  
  


Ari led him to a secluded area, right next to the horror and fiction section. Lance noticed a small girl with wispy silver hair reading a large book in silence. She had tiny freckles dotting her nose, thin eyebrows, and pink bow lips. Her skin looked almost translucent, blue spiderweb veins around her temples. She looked like she was made out of paper and baby bird bones.

 

“That’s Zoey,” Ari said in a whisper. “She’s super shy.”

 

Zoey tucked in a stray lock of hair behind her ear, icy blue eyes skimming through words. 

 

“She definitely doesn’t look like a talker,” Lance said. 

 

Ari elbowed his stomach lightly. “Don’t be… weird,” Ari said, cringing. 

 

“Me? Weird?” Lance said, offended. “When have I ever been weird?”

 

Ari deadpanned. 

 

Lance scoffed at him.

 

Ari sighed, pushing his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt. Ari cleared his throat. 

 

The girl looked up from her book, eyes blinking like an owl. 

 

“Hey, Zoey,” Ari said with a small smile.

 

“Hullo,” The girl said meekly. She had a british accent!

 

“What are you reading?” Ari asked. 

 

The girl flipped her book, showing the cover. It was The Little Prince.

 

“Oh, I like that book,” Ari said, grinning. “It’s really good.”

 

“Yeah…” she said, “I like it.”

 

The interaction was like watching a small kitten approaching an even smaller kitten. Their voices soft, big wide eyes glinting in small happiness. The girl’s face was no longer somber, but instead a fond happy smile. It made Lance want to pinch her ruddy cheeks. Just as he was about to join them, footsteps stop him in place.

 

“Zoey, are you here?” said a voice.

 

Lance turned his back and he could faint on the spot. 

 

There was that familiar silver hair that could combat any L’oreal television spokesperson. The scent of expensive cologne. Perfectly manicured nails and trimmed eyebrows.

 

Lotor stood awkwardly in front of Lance, a stiff smile in place. He wore dark clothing. A well tailored black suit. Hair tied in a tight ponytail and the beginning of a widow’s peak. His shoes were polished to perfection. The same familiar high cheekbones and pointy chin. He looked straight out of a TV show drama. Blast to past to Gossip Girl. Spotted: Lotor was back in town. This time, he was not rocking those six inch studded boots. 

 

“Oh, hey,” Lance said awkwardly. “Long time no see.”

 

“Lance,” Lotor said, stretching his name to oblivion. Lance did not know why he even had a relationship with this man. Only a masochist could love a narcissist. 

 

Lotor’s sharp eyes glanced towards the children behind Lance. His eyes are the same as ever, a sickeningly Prince Charming blue. Someone should name a crayon after this guy.

 

“Care for some tea?”

 

.

.

.

 

The two men were seated outside a cafe. Water dripping down the awning, landing onto the potted plants. People walking by wearing their rain boots and colorful umbrellas. It was a light drizzle and Lance preferred to stay outside to feel the cool air. 

 

“When my child, Zoey, was born … it was the best day of my life,” Lotor said, long fingers gripping the tea cup. The reflection of the brown liquid showed a look of practiced passivity. Reflection were often deceiving. They flip things and spit it back. Self-portraits are the same way, that’s what Delilah used to say when she puts away blank canvases. Lotor looked empty. Skin as pale as a vampire and sometimes sparkle under the sunlight. Eyes were the palest watery blue like that of a ghost, milky blue.

 

“My late wife was frail. I didn’t want to risk her health, I said it didn’t matter whether the Zarkon line died with me — whatever my father said was complete ludicracy,” Lotor said, looking up at Lance. He placed his sharp chin on his pallid knuckles. Lance noticed the lack of a ring on his finger. “She looked at me with that fire in her eyes, a clenched jaw, and she told me ‘I will have this child’. I fell even more completely in love.”

 

He took a sip of his tea, closing his eyes and then let out sigh.

  
  


“I think you have to make a choice at a certain point of what kind of man you want to be and I have to tell you that those times you need a parent or a friend to help you with those choices.”

 

He sucked in a breath, “And if you’ve learnt to hate your parents by then and you have no friends … then you’re all alone. Being completely alone was so hard. It sent me to a truly dark place for a very long time. What could I have done? I had a dying wife and small infant daughter.”

 

There was one thing about being on the top of the world: It gives you a long, long way to fall. Lotor, unfortunately, fell off a very high skyscraper.

 

“I’m sorry,” Lance said genuinely, thinking over Lotor’s words. He thought of his own situation. What could have Lance done? He had a dead sister and a small child with no parents.

 

“It is exceptionally lonely, being me. I will always be judged. There is no escaping my past,” Lotor said, adding a sugar cube into his cup. “I never really fancied being a businessman. Even as a child. It was all my father ever wanted me to become. I rebelled, of course, I hated that man with all my passion. I became a musician, a very cliche route if you ask me, but it wasn’t for me. I did things that made him resent me. I was a disgrace, disappointment, and a useless son. I don’t care for those labels. Mainly, I just wanted to be happy.”

 

“Are you happy?” Lance asked. Lance fiddled with the bandages wrapped around his hand. 

 

The universe had a great sense of humor. Sometimes having your dreams come true can feel like an absolute nightmare. Sure, we don’t get the things we want, but what we need. They never tell what you needed always come with strings attached.

 

“I met my wife. It’s amazing to fall in love with someone you didn’t notice at first glance.” Lotor said with a chuckle, the beginnings of a smile taking place. “It was hard at first, to open up to someone other than my closest friends.”

 

“The Generals?” Lance said, giving him a coy smirk. 

 

“Oh dear Lord, don’t even mention that, they’re just a squad of overly protective aunts at this point,” Lotor said with a grimace. “Meeting my wife was probably one of the greatest things that happened. Zoey was a product of that love and...Lance, I would sell my soul for another minute with her. I miss her deeply.”

 

“...I miss my sister,” Lance said after a moment, “a lot.”

 

“My condolences,” Lotor said with the same formal drawl. “Grief, from what I have learned, was just love. Love you don’t know where to put. It’s awful to miss them more than you can ever love them, and I think that is the true meaning. Misplaced love.”

 

Lotor’s eyes changed from the light, both literally and metaphorically. His eyes were ice cold like a frozen lake filled with trapped emotions, that they knew no warmth and never shared loved. That's what they used to be. A man with no sense of direction, but now times have change and the green leaves dyed into orange ash. When Lance stared at those eyes too much, he could almost feel the cold water hugging him too tight.

 

“The most painful things can teach us lessons that we didn’t know we needed,” Lotor said, tucking the strand of silver hair behind his ear. “I’m not saying that I wanted her to die, but I guess the best thing she left me was learning how to move on.” 

 

Their conversation was a mixture of pitiful remarks, snide comments, and apologies.

 

Lance looked down into his cup and saw his own reflection. Blue became the warmest color. The hottest flames always burn blue.

 

When Lotor left with his daughter, asking her if she wanted ice cream, it brought a smile on his place and a realization: Lotor never answered his question. 

 

But when the light hit Lotor and his cold eyes, there was no need.

 

He can ask next time.

  
  


.

.

.

 

“I don’t really what you’re going for,” Lance said as he surveyed through different racks of baby clothes. “I’m no baby expert.”

 

“You and I both,” Nessie said with a sigh, grabbing a cute sailor uniform. She cringed at it. 

 

“Excuse me, you have a three-year-old daughter,” Lance said with his hands on his hips, looking at her pointedly. “Those hips don’t lie, honey.”

 

Nessie glared at him with narrowed eyes. “Hm, those grey hairs don’t lie either. How’s fatherhood treating you?”

 

“Touché,” Lance said, returning to his search of appropriate infant wear. “So, got a gender yet?”

 

“It’s a boy,” Nessie said, a small smile on her lips. “I got a name already.”

 

“Ooh lala~ Now that’s something I’m interested in,” He said, snatching a Superman onesie, “Well, uh yeah what you said too.”

 

Nessie rolled her eyes, but allowed him to put it in the cart. Babies R Us was truly a sea to navigate. “Charles.”

 

“After Great Uncle Charles?” Lance said and then mentally prayed for his late… Gruncle? Bless his kind and old soul. 

 

“No, after you dummy,” Nessie said, shaking her head. 

 

“Not gonna lie, but I always resented being called ‘Charles’,” Lance said with a grimace. “Remember that time Mama almost made Dee’s second name as Charles? That would have been messed up. Darwin Charles. I felt my skin crawl when I said that out loud.”

 

“Well, it’s better than being called ‘Almost-Charles’,” Nessie said with a laugh. 

 

Lance’s phone let out a ping. He brought up to his phone and grinned. He turned it around to reveal a hilarious picture of their youngest sibling. “Well, ‘Almost-Charles’ is dying over their exams.”

 

Nessie laughed, covering her mouth. Her other hand holding her pregnant belly. 

 

“Aww, is Charlie laughing too?” Lance said, cooing over her stomach. “Well, at least he’s finally Charles.”

 

“Yeah,” Nessie said, caressing her stomach “Finally Charles.”

 

“Yep, Dee’s probably going to get used to being called ‘Almost-Charles’ just like you were with being ‘Nessie,” Lance said, poking her forehead. 

 

Nessie sighed. “I’ve grown to embrace it.”

 

“You should,” Lance said, rifling through more clothing. “It’s a good memory.”

 

“It’s nothing really worth remembering,” Nessie said. She struggle to pick up a pair of shoes from a shelf. Lance gave her a smile, picking it up easily. They were a pair of white baby shoes with blue butterflies on them. 

 

“Delilah talked about getting these for a girl,” She stayed quiet, contemplating. “Should I buy these?”

 

“Yeah, you should get it for Lili,” Lance said. 

 

“You can call her Delilah, Lance,” Nessie said, biting her lip. “That’s her name.”

 

“Okay,” Lance said. “Go get these for Delilah.”

 

.

.

.

  
  


_ “Okay, Lance say Essie!” said Esperanza, sitting in front of her little brother. “Es-sie!” _

 

_ “E-Eh-th,” Lance said, trying out the solid vowels. “Ah!” _

 

_ Esperanza sighed, placing her chin on a fist, pointing at him. “Mamá, esto es imposible!”  _ **_Mama, this is impossible._ **

 

_ “Si, este niño es tonto,” said Delilah as she brushed her doll’s hair.  _ **_Yeah, the kid’s dumb._ **

 

_ “Hey! Delilah, no digas eso,” Mama scolded, cuffing the back of her head.  _ **_Don’t say that._ **

 

_ “¡Pero es verdad!”  _ **_But it’s true!_ **

 

_ “Why don’t you help me out with the chores instead of berating your little brother?” _

 

_ “I never even asked for a little brother!” Delilah said with a groan, quickly abandoning her doll on the sofa. She went next to Mama, folding the laundry. “Why isn’t Nessie helping?” _

 

_ “Hey! My name is not the freaking Loch Ness Monster, you brat,” Esperanza said with a huff. “¡No hablamos de eso!”  _ **_We don’t talk about it._ **

 

_ “Not my fault that you fell on great uncle Charles’s lake,” Delilah muttered, recalling the memory. “It was either that or Seaweed Brain.” _

 

_ “Both of them are just as bad!” _

 

_ “It’s way cuter!” Delilah said, sticking her tongue out. “Essie sounds like something you name a cow.” _

 

_ “Delilah!” Mama scolded, a frown forming on her face. _

 

_ “I’m just saying my opinions, oh my god,” Delilah said with a roll of her eyes. “You know, it’s not that hard to teach Lance words. It’s super easy.” _

 

_ “Oh, yeah?” Esperanza said, raising an eyebrow. “Why don’t you do it , see how easy it is then!” _

 

_ “My pleasure!” Delilah said, throwing a dress on to Esperanza’s head.  _

 

_ “Hey, Lancey!” Delilah cooed, a grin on place.  _

 

_ Lance whimpered.  _

 

_ “Nice,” Esperanza said dryly. “Truly remarkable.” _

 

_ “Shut up, Cow,” Delilah said. She crouched down, hands on her knees. “You know what’s my name?” _

 

_ “Lala!” Lance said.  _

 

_ “Hm, yeah! Lala!” Delilah said, grin widening. “Delilah! Dee-Lie-Laaaa.” _

 

_ “Dee-Lie-Laalaaaa,” Lance repeated with a smile, his tongue testing the sounds. _

 

_ “Ya see!” Delilah said, gesturing at the blinking boy. “Ok, now say Esperanza.” _

 

_ “Nethpularantha,” Lance said. Delilah cringed at his words. _

 

_ She thought for a moment and then grinned brightly, “Say Nessie!” _

 

_ “No!” Esperanza said, but it was too late, the damage had already begun. “¡No, digas eso!” _

 

_ “Nethie,” Lance said, and then repeated again, much clearer. “Nessie!” _

  
  
  


.

.

.

 

“It was cute though,” Nessie said, licking her ice cream. 

 

“What was?”

 

“Your lisp back then,” Nessie said and tapped the front of her teeth, “And missing teeth.”

 

“Damn right I was cute!” Lance said with a huff, biting his popsicle. “I was adorable!”

 

“Yeah, you were,” Nessie said and then sighed sadly. “Now you look like an extension cord. What happened to my cute baby brother? I recorded your first words on camera! I think it was loco?”

 

“Ugh!” Lance groaned. “Sometimes I wonder why my first word wasn’t as cute as Ari’s.” 

 

.

.

.

  
  


_ Lance was cooking breakfast, his fingers wrapped in bandages, face smeared with ketchup. Ari sat on the chair, crayon pressing against paper. Lance was scraping burnt honey from the pan, scrape, scrape.  _

 

_ Ari was blinking at him, his drawing coming to a stop. He then said, “Papa?” _

 

_ “Yeah?” and Lance widened his eyes, stopping his actions, nearly dropping the pan. “W-what did you say?”  _

 

_ “Papa,” Ari said, tapping paper with his chubby hand. “Papa.” _

 

_ “Holy shit!” Lance yelled, dropping the pan onto stove.  He scooped Ari from his chair. “Say that again? Who am I?” _

 

_ “Papa!” He said again, and again, and again.  _

 

_ Lance grinned. Warm feelings were like breakfast: dripping honey. Getting stuck and never letting go. Sickening sweetness.  _

 

_ Lance was actually crying, holy crap, he was peppering kisses on Ari’s face.  _

 

_ He then yelled out, hopefully reaching his friends’ apartment, “HE CALLED ME PAPA, GUYS!” _

 

_. _

_. _

_. _

 

"Sometimes you need to step outside, clear your head and remind yourself of who you are. And where you wanna be. And sometimes you have to venture outside your world in order to find yourself. As for me, I'm happy right where I am. I only wanna be with you. xoxo . . . Gossip Girl"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WTF, I CANNOT BELIEVE I JUST QUOTED GOSSIP GIRL ASDFGHJKL::;
> 
> Also if you got the draco malfoy feels from Lotor, then good on you, i got it from him lol
> 
> (It's a guilty pleasure, but honey, i only made it to season one and there was already too much white privilege in it.)
> 
> Leave a comment! It helps me out a lot with motivation! :D


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life As We Think About It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank the lord, I finally updated!
> 
> Obviously this is still unedited, so I'm going to go do that right now! I usually post this early to show that I AM NOT ON HIATUS OMFG.
> 
> This chapter might be one of the longest I've written!! And there's a reason for that ;)
> 
> Songs I listened to:  
> Skinny Love- Birdy/ Bon Iver  
> Love the way you lie part 2 - Rihanna, Eminem  
> Beach Boy Blues - Elvis Presley  
> Wolf - First Aid Kit (shout out to the person who recc'd me this! You know who you are ;) )  
> Payphone - Maroon 5 ft Wiz Khalifa
> 
>  
> 
> [FAN ART! PLAXUM IS SO FUCKIGN CUTE AHHHHH](http://postscratch.tumblr.com/post/170016161578/lance-laughed-he-liked-this-woman-she-was-nice)
> 
>  
> 
> WARNING: THIS CHAPTER INVOLVES REFERENCES TO DEPRESSION, MENTAL ILLNESS, AND DEATH.

_Lance opened the door to his apartment. He shook off his coat, draping it onto the floor. He dropped his keys in the bowl.The house was filled with silence. He tripped over his feet, swaying a bit to the side. His hair was a mess. His eyes were bloodshot. He smelled smoke wafting into the air._

 

_“Keith?” Lance called out. “Keiiiiith?”_

 

_He heard footsteps coming, the strong stench growing stronger._

 

_“Lance,” Keith said gruffly._

 

_Keith looked beyond pissed: A cigarette stuck between his chapped lips. Eyebrows furrowed deeply. His jaw clenched tightly._

 

_“Do you know what time it is?” Keith asked. “Do you have any idea?”_

 

_“Uuhhh, I don’t know.”_

 

_“It’s four in the morning,” Keith said, killing his cigarette, stomping it on to the tiled floor. “Who dropped you off?”_

 

_“Just the guys,” Lance said, pausing and then added, “Hunk and Pidge, I mean.”_

 

_“Why’d they drop you down the street?” Keith said, crossing his arms. “Are you ashamed to be with me?”_

 

_“N-no, of course not,” Lance said, stumbling over his words. “Why would you think that? I just didn’t want to say ‘cause people would start talking shit. They don’t need to know everything about me. Don’t you think it’s too soon to start prancing around with our relationship? ”_

 

_“We’ve been dating for seven months,” Keith said harshly, “I think that’s a good enough time.”_

 

_“Oh, so now we’re official? You’re the one who said we should be quiet about it, stop people from blabbering,” Lance said, his voice raising slightly. “Why are we whispering?”_

 

_“You ashamed to be with a guy?”_

 

_“No, what the hell? I’m just following what you told me to do…” Lance said, biting his lip. Memories of Greg, hand holding and secret glances come into his mind.  He felt the muscles of his chin tremble like a small child. “You think I’m ashamed?”_

 

_Keith licked his lips, swallowing a lump. “Who was she?”_

 

_“Who?”_

 

_“The girl that dropped you off.”_

 

_Lance paused and then said, “A co-worker.”_

 

_“Are you hanging out with Zeppo?” Keith asked bluntly._

 

_“Where did you get that idea?”_

 

_“Just answer the question.”_

 

_“No, I don’t… just only a few times,” Lance said, biting his lip harder. Blood was drawn. His eyes felt like they were being burned. Just staring at the deep fury that resided in Keith’s eyes felt so painful.“Just like… only a bit.”_

 

_“Why are you lying?”_

 

_“I’m not lying.”_

 

_“Why are you crying?”_

 

_Lance scrubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of the wetness. Lance was gasping for air that simply wasn’t there. His throat felt like it was scratched by sandpaper. Was he crying?_

 

_“I’m not crying.”_

 

_“Then what’s with that look?” Keith said, narrowing his eyes. “What’s with those tears, huh?”_

 

_“I’m just tired.”_

 

_“I’m not dumb, how long have you been seeing Zeppo?”_

 

_“I’m not sleeping with him if that’s what you’re asking.”_

 

_“He deals drugs, Lance,” Keith said, his jaw clenching. “What’s that shit called again? Quintessence?”_

 

_“I’m not taking drugs.”_

 

_“How long have you been lying to me?”_

 

_“I’m not lying!”_

 

_“Then why the fuck are you crying, Lance?”_

 

_Once that first tear broke free, the rest followed in an unbroken waterfall._

 

_“I’m tired!” Lance said hoarsely. He cleared his throat. “Shit, Okay, I smoked a bit. I regret it.”_

 

_“I’m not an idiot,” Keith seethed._

 

_“I didn’t say you were.”_

 

_“No, Lance, you’re lying,” Keith said, eyeing his posture. “You’re barely holding yourself up.”_

 

_“I swear I’m not.”_

 

_“How long have you been seeing him?” Keith asked, teeth gnashed together. “How long have you been taking them?”_

 

_“I’m not–”_

 

_“Tell me! Lance, you’ve been seeing a therapist, I know, and you have meds, so fucking tell me, are you taking drugs!?” He felt his heart stop at the mention of his therapist. All the air coming out of his lungs._

 

_Lance heaved a breath and then yelled out, “I’m not taking any fucking drugs!”_

 

_“Lance, you look like a fucking crackhead!”_

 

_“I’m not taking anything! You’re being too much!”_

 

_“Me being too much? Are you kidding me?” Keith said, gripping his hair, running a wild hand through the dark tresses. “That’s it, I’m leaving.”_

 

_“Wait, what?” Lance said, stumbling as Keith pushed him away. “No, you’re not!”_

 

_“Get off me, Lance!” Keith said as he pushed, pushed and pushed._

 

_He was losing his mind…again. He could feel it unraveling, the threads of every happy memory he could ever once recall, all but a disarray of strings scattering around his feet. His sharp knees dug into the carpet as he hit the ground. His hands unsteady as they clawed at Keith’s jacket. His head was violently quivering as if there was a jackhammer drilling at the back of his skull. Lance bent forward where he sat on the floor and pressing his palms to the mat, he began to cry with the force of a person vomiting on all fours._

 

_Lance’s tears were flowing now. “Shit, okay, okay, I met with him like five times, six times, I don’t know, I can’t remember!”_

 

_“Six times!?”_

 

_“I didn’t tell you because… I don’t know… I couldn’t explain it… It’s stupid, I know,” Lance said, face crumbling. “I’m the idiot. I’m sorry.”_

 

_Keith kept quiet, staring at Lance’s pathetic state._

 

_“Fuck, Keith, I felt so alone.”_

 

_“Are you...addicted?”_

 

_“I don’t know….I just felt so fucking alone,” Lance said, his voice cracking. He hugged himself. “You weren’t here a lot. You left me alone. I had so much problems. School, home, my entire existence for fuck’s sake. It’s suffocating me.”_

 

_It was true. Failure after failure. Continuous looks of disappointment and disapproval from his friends, his family. Lance was no genius and he was sorry that he couldn’t live up to people’s expectations. Lance was just so stupid. He knew, realistically, that the medicationsi, more therapy sessions, family dinners where they actually listen to him won’t fix everything. He felt as if someone had placed a shopping bag over his head. There was static in his head once more, a side effect of this constant fear, constant stress he had to live with._

 

_Lance gritted his teeth, collapsing his face onto his hands. His voice coming out raw like a distressed child. “I’m so sorry! I was just… Fuck...Fuck this!” He kicked a table, books topping down onto the floor. “I can’t think straight!”_

 

_Keith still kept quiet._

 

_“He’s nothing to me,” Lance said, sighing. “It’s just a dumb mistake. I won’t do it again. I was just so alone and empty without you.” Lance grabbed the back of Keith’s neck, hugging him tightly. He kissed his neck. “It wasn’t on purpose. I never meant to hurt you… I promise I didn’t,” Lance said, squeezing him. He felt hands pushing his chest._

 

_Keith looked at him with a pained look, almost looking repulsed. “I-I have to go.”_

 

_“Again?” Lance said, mouth agape. “What? You’re leaving me?”_

 

_“This is too much, I have to go.”_

 

_“What is more important than talking about this!?” Lance yelled. “Are you fucking kidding me? I open up to you and you leave me? What the actual fuck! You’re an asshole!”_

 

_It was so typical for Keith to leave when things got too hard. Lance just wanted someone to hold him, tuck his head under their chin and whisper that things would be okay into his ear. He wanted someone to love the parts Lance was ashamed of, the parts that Lance was so sure no one could ever love._

 

_“Jesus Christ,” Keith said, pinching his nose. “There’s something you don’t understand, but I have to go right now. I can’t deal with this, not now, okay? I’ve wasted so much time waiting for you.”_

 

_Lance rolled his eyes and laughed. “I get it! You think I’m fucking crazy. I’m a psycho. Guess what, Keith? I’m not the only who’s nuts. What pisses me off is that you think I’m crazier than you are!”_

 

_“Lance, can you just shut up about these assumptions!?” Keith yelled, “Arguing with you is impossible!”_

 

_“I didn’t do anything!” Lance said. “I’m stating facts! Why don’t you shut the fuck up!”_

 

_“If that’s what you think, then move.” Keith said, shoving Lance. He grabbed his bag on the floor. “I’m done.”_

 

_It was so painful how familiar this was: feeling Keith shoving him away, bruises forming on his heart. Even then, Lance would follow him like a lost puppy. Some people create their own destruction, their own thunderstorms and then get upset when it rains. Not Lance, he felt sick satisfaction out of it. Ha! Even angels had their own wicked schemes._

 

_“No, no!” Lance yelled brokenly. “Don’t go!”_

 

_“Can you just make up your fucking mind?”_

 

_“Don’t do this, please,” Lance sobbed. Feeling the tightness in stomach. The sharp pain on his chest. Was it the drugs or was it the heartache? “Where do I go without you!?”_

 

_“I don’t know!” Keith shook off his hands. “Lance, you’re out of it. Go to sleep or something.”_

 

_“Keith, I love you! I love you!” Lance practically screamed so loud that the neighbors could hear his screams bouncing off the walls. “You can’t go! What will I do? I’m begging you!”_

 

_Keith kept his silence, fighting off Lance’s clawing on his arms. He hitched the backpack and opened the door, slamming it closed. The bowl that held Lance’s keys fell off the shelf, shattering into a million tiny pieces just like Lance’s heart._

 

_._

_._

_._

 

Lance kept stirring the bowl of cereal. One hand cradled his chin, the other creating a milky vortex of lucky charms. The diner he sat at was retro space themed from the eighties. Outside were children dressed in different costumes. It was the same inside the diner, older men and women wearing cheap get-ups and knock-off costumes. The waitress wore skimpy looking devil and angel outfits, even the elderly looking ones. Lance cringed at the sight.

 

He sighed and then turned into the front, imaging someone seated in front of him. The person stood primly in her chair, grinning at him with her usual ease. Her jaw cradled on the palms of her hand, her elbows leaned against the table.

 

“Hey, Forehead. Missed me?”

 

“You have no idea,” Lance muttered. “You keep popping up in my head. I think I should tell my doctor about these visits of yours.”

 

“Shhhhh, you shouldn’t!” Delilah said, pouting. “I might not pop up anymore. I only come when you think about me… or when you feel lonely.”

 

“Delilah…”

 

“You really don’t like it when I come?” Delilah said sadly, touching his hand. “I really miss you, little brother.”

 

“You can’t miss me ‘cause you’re goddamn dead,” Lance hissed and then he repeatedly dejectedly. “You’re dead.”

 

“I am,” Delilah said with a sigh. “There’s nothing you can do about it though.”

 

“I know,” Lance said and then took a sip of his orange juice. “I’m really confused.”

 

“Why are you confused?”

 

“Time after time, I tell people to move on. I tell all our siblings to move on and I think they have, all except me,” Lance said, sounding exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes. Every night is a futile tussle of conflicting thoughts. “I can’t get rid of you.”

 

“It’s not easy to get rid of me,” she teased. “I’m a very memorable person.”

 

“You are,” Lance said, a small smirk coming in place. “You’re pretty annoying though.”

 

“What! Forehead, are you looking into a mirror?” Delilah snarked back.

 

“I’m looking at a figment of my imagination,” Lance said and then yawned. “I haven’t been sleeping.”

 

“How come?”

 

“It’s because of you, Ugly.”

 

“Stop blaming me for you problems,” Delilah said with a huff. “I’m dead, what have I ever done to you?”

 

“You’ve ruined my life.”

 

“No, I didn’t!” Delilah yelled, slamming her hands on the table. The items stayed in place because Delilah wasn’t real. “You ruined your own life. That’s your own choice. I have no power to do any of that, you idiot!”

 

“You left me with Ari!”

 

“So you’re saying Ari ruined your life?” Delilah said angrily. “Is that what you’re saying, _Alejandro_?”

 

“N-no!” Lance said, stuttering, “That’s not what I meant–”

 

“Would it be better if Ari died with me?” Delilah asked quietly.

 

“No–”

 

His trance was broken when he heard a knock on the window next to him. There was Keith, a raised eyebrow and half smirk. He wore a black coat that matched the night sky with silver buttons. Lance forced a smile back and then gestured him to join him.

 

Delilah rolled her eyes. “Figures. Well, I’ll talk to you later.”

 

“Please don’t,” Lance said weakly.

 

The bell jingled as Keith went in, passing through the different patrons. He shared a strange look with a man wearing a red paladin costume.

 

“Nice wig, mate,” said the man.

 

Keith glared at him. “It’s not a wig.”

 

The man shrugged. “Could have fooled me.”

 

Lance sniggered, covering his mouth. Keith rolled his eyes and then took a seat in front of him. He eyed the bowl of cereal in front of him. He gave Lance another raised eyebrow.

 

“Lucky Charms?” Keith asked.

 

Lance stirred the bowl, watching the colorful wheels of cereal float around the sea of milk. “I like ‘em.”

 

“In case you didn’t know, it’s nearly eight PM,” Keith said with a wry grin.

 

“Don’t judge me,” Lance said with a sigh and took a mouthful of the sugary treat. “Yum.”

 

A lady came over wearing a devil outfit: Blinking red horn a top their head, a devil’s pitchfork pen on one hand and a notepad on the other. She wore pointy tipped glasses, owlish eyes staring at the two of them.

 

“Can I get you something?” said the woman, landing her eyes on Keith. “Lucky Charms here’s been all on his lonesome. Good to know he wasn’t stood up.”

 

Lance glared at the woman. “I wasn’t expecting anyone–”

 

“So what is it, Sweet Cheeks?”

 

Keith paused, glancing at Lance, and then said, “Tea.”

 

“Alright, anything else?”

 

Keith shook his head. The lady left with a flourish, walking away towards the kitchen.

 

“Why’d you order tea?”

 

“‘Cause you ordered cereal.”

 

“You didn’t need to do that.”

 

“Why’d you order cereal?”

 

“I wanted cereal.”

 

“Same thing, I wanted tea.”

 

“This is stupid,” Lance said with a chuckle. He lifted a spoon. “Wanna share?”

 

Keith cracked a smile. “So why are you here on your lonesome?”

 

“Trick or treating. Ari’s with Alfor and Coran, so I opted to wait here on my own,” Lance said, “You?”

 

“Pharmacy,” Keith said, jerking his head to the side. “Needed some… things.”

 

“What kind of things?”

 

“Medications.”

 

“What kind?”

 

“Abilify.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You taking Seroquel?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Lamotrigine?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Clonopine?”

 

“Ugh, that’s the worst. I got off of it.”

 

"Yeah!" Lance opened his eyes wider, keeping the smile. Keith nodded and took a sip of his tea, offering no ongoing conversation of his own, so Lance began again, “Jesus, it makes my mind go foggy and I get these killer headaches, but at least I’m taking the right drugs now,” Lance joked, hoping his words will raise his spirits. Instead Keith huffed, rolling his eyes, but there’s amusement in them.

 

“I used to be on Xanax, but it didn’t make me as sharp, so I stopped.”

 

“Why not? I think you need to be more chill,” Lance said, rolling his eyes. “God knows how many dents you’ve put in walls.”

 

The rest of conversation goes by like two pals reminiscing their old memories. They bounced remarks between themselves like a bouncing rubber ball. They were never sure if they really got wittier as the evening wore on or if it was just the effect of being with each other made everything seem so much funnier. Their banter was natural and they insulted each other often, but that was the way it was with them, taking those words in stride and seeing them as compliments. Conversations turning into nonsense arguments. It looked quite strange to hear a fight between two smiling men in an outsider’s view.

 

Lance phone rang, he put it on his ear and was suddenly attacked by a string of ‘SHE SAID YES!’ before it hung up. Later that day, Lance would find out that Hunk passed out.

 

Lance shook his head with a smile. “Shay said yes.”

 

“Hm, So I’m looking at the best man right now?”

 

“Don’t tell Pidge, but we’re making them the flower girl.”

 

Keith laughed.

 

“This is… nice,” Lance said, sounding like a confession. “It’s good to talk like this. I’m sorry if I asked some really personal things.”

 

“I don’t mind,” Keith said, taking sip of his tea.

 

“You don’t?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“You can ask me things too, you know,” Lance said, taking another mouthful. “I won’t mind either.”

 

Keith took a moment to pause. He stared at Lance with his ultra-violet eyes. “What do you think of Ari’s teacher?”

 

“Plaxum?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“She’s a good person,” Lance said, cocking his head to the side. “She seems a bit sad. Lonely as well.”

 

“I never would have guessed,” Keith said. “She’s kind of like you. Bubbly, kind, clumsy.”

 

“I am not clumsy!” Lance said, gesturing wildly, but then ended hitting the napkin dispenser. It clattered noisily on the floor. He winced at the sound. “Okay, maybe, slightly.”

 

Keith chuckled lightly. “Sure.”

 

“Don’t make fun of me, Kogane!” Lance felt an entire zoo in his belly.

 

“I’m stating facts.”

 

“But yeah, you’re right. She reminds me of someone.”

 

“Who?”

 

“I just… can’t place it,” Lance said, tapping his chin. “It’s just reminds me of someone really important and I don’t know who.”

 

“I don’t think that matters anyways,” Keith said, waving his hand flippantly. “If Plaxum is your friend, then she’s your friend...or something more.”

 

“Something more?” Lance repeated. Lance simply stared at him, making a noise like a chicken choking on a pellet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Oh, c’mon. You guys go out together all the time,” Keith said, almost teasing. _Almost_. “You hang out with each other a lot.”

 

“Keith,” Lance started seriously, “I don’t have feelings for Plaxum.” _I have feelings for you._

 

“Oh,” Keith simply said. “Cool. Well is this a date?”

 

Lance paused, then a grin broke. “If you ignore the cereal, then it is.”

 

“It can be a date even with the cereal,” Keith said, fighting the smile erupting his features. He bit his lip. “I’m just trying to be clear here. You really don’t have a thing for Plaxum? Don’t want to be a third party here.”

 

“I really don’t,” Lance said, leaning closer. “Plaxum is like a sister to me.”

 

Lance froze.

 

Keith looked at him with furrowed eyebrows.

 

“She’s a sister to me.”

 

.

.

.

 

_“Hey, Mike!” Delilah said, waving her hands cheerfully. “Over here!”_

 

_Mike gave her a smile, passing through throngs of people and then sitting next to the bubbly blonde. “Hey,” he said, watching cautiously at the people around them. “I’m not late, am I?”_

 

_“Nah, you’re just in time!” Lance said, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth. “Actually everyone’s early.”_

 

_“Yep, I can see that,” Mike said, pushing his glasses up his nose, eyeing the pack stadium._

 

_A squad of cute cheerleaders come into the field. Their pom poms raised into the air. Some girls started doing back flips._

 

_Delilah bounced in her seat, twin ponytails swishing. “I love cheerleading!”_

 

_“You do?” Mike asked._

 

_“I used to do it in high school,” Delilah chirped. “I was team captain.”_

 

_“Did you stop in university?” Mike asked._

 

_Lance gulped at the sight of Delilah’s frozen expression. Her body gone stiff. “Um. Something happened,” she said quietly and then shook her head, ridding herself from the memory. “Anyways, that’s old news!” she said with her cheerful smile once again, but it looks forced to point of it being painful. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”_

 

_._

_._

_._

 

Lance was making himself a cup coffee when Ari came home from school looking in deep thought. His eyebrows were furrowed together, his lips pursed. Lance chuckled, poking the crease forming between his brows causing Ari to break him from his thoughts.

 

“What’s got you thinking?” Lance said with a smile.

 

“Oh, Ms. Plaxum was really weird today,” Ari said, playing with the straps of his backpack. “She’s been less… herself.”

 

“What do you mean, Cub?”

 

“I don’t know,” Ari said, shaking his head. “There’s just something… sad about her today. She was not really smiling that much.”

 

“Ah,” Lance said, “Well, we all have our bad days.”

 

“No,” Ari said, licking his lips, “I don’t really want to talk about it, but… I saw her crying in the bathroom.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah, but don’t tell anyone about that!” Ari exclaimed, flustered, maybe he was embarrassed. “I don’t think I’m supposed to tell. It might get me in trouble.”

 

“No, you telling me was good,” Lance said, trying to squish the worry forming in his chest. “I’m Ms. Plaxum’s friend, right?”

 

“Yeah, but…”

 

“I’ll go visit her later, okay?” Lance said, ruffling his hair. “Maybe she just needs a friend right now.”

 

Ari shrugged. “Okay, can you make mac and cheese?”

 

“Coming right up!” Lance said with a grin.

 

.

.

.

 

_Delilah sat patiently on the sofa, nursing a mug of hot chocolate. Her sleeved drooping down her elbows. Lance plopped next to her. He wore a goofy set of antler ears. He placed an ill-fitting Santa hat atop of her head. She rolled her eyes, adjusting the band of the hat above her hairline._

 

_“What’s got you in a mood?” Lance asked, draping an arm around her shoulder. “It’s Christmas and your birthday! It’s a double celebration!”_

 

_“Xavier said he’s running late,” Delilah said with a pout, glancing at the window. “That’s code for he hasn’t bought me a present yet… as usual,” a playful laugh coming out of her mouth._

 

_“Well, as expected of that lazy boyfriend of yours,” Lance said with a chuckle. Delilah hit him on the shoulder, sticking her tongue out._

 

_Suddenly, Delilah’s phone rang. Her eyes turn into a brighter shade blue and she hurriedly got up from her seat, walking out towards the hall._

 

 _“Hey, Quarterback,” Lance heard distantly, “You are_ **_so_ ** _late…”_

 

_He can hear laughing cut short, a sudden silence ensued._

 

_When Delilah came back to him, her eyes are no longer held the excitement, but they looked scared. There were tears streaming down her eyes._

 

_“I need to go to the hospital.”_

 

_._

_._

_._

 

It was all there. The signs, the words, and the forced smiles. Lance should have seen it coming. He of all people should know how grief worked, how the feeling of getting your heart broken felt. There were two types of pain and Lance has experienced both. The one that hurts and the one that changes you.

 

You lose yourself for someone who wasn’t there anymore.

_._

_._

_._

 

_From the waiting area came the most hysterical crying, the screaming sobs only interrupted by the person's need to draw breath. It was a primal sound, one we're programmed not to ignore. Lance held his sister from running into the double doors like a wild animal clawing her way out an iron chain._

 

_“Let go of me!” Delilah screamed. “I have to see him!”_

 

_“Delilah, stop!” Lance said, holding her struggling. “He’s in surgery! You have to wait, okay?”_

 

_“GET THE FUCK OFF ME, ALEJANDRO,” Delilah yelled, scratching his arms with her sharp nails. “GET OFF ME!”_

 

_Delilah cried as if her brain was being shredded from the inside. Emotional pain flowed out of every orifice. From her mouth came a cry so raw that even the eyes of passing strangers around them were suddenly wet with tears. Even Lance started crying, eyes came a thicker flow of tears than he had cried. Delilah was wailing like a banshee. Her thick scarf going undone like her sanity. The whole world had vanished for her, now there was only pain enough to break her, pain enough to change him beyond recognition. It was as if every sound that escaped her mouth was set to shatter his heart to pieces._

 

_“XAVIER!”_

 

_._

_._

_._

 

Lance knocked on the door, out of breath, sweat pouring from his forehead. The door opened to a surprised Plaxum. She was clad in seafoam green silk pyjamas. Her hair free from braids, just cascading into loose curls down past her shoulders. Her eyes were red-rimmed. Her face blotchy as if she had been crying. Her lips were gnawed raw. Some strands of hair plastered to her head from sweat. There were marks of pillow crease on her cheek.

 

“Lance?”

 

“Did you call Lori?” Lance asked raspily. Years of smoking and alcohol abuse had made his voice sound like it had traveled via vocal chords of heavy sandpaper.

 

For a split second, Plaxum eyes widened, and then crumbled like a piece of paper.

 

“I...Can’t,” Plaxum said, her lip wobbling. “She’s dead.”

 

Plaxum cried like there was too much raw pain inside her to be contained. She cried like her spirit needed to break loose from her skin, desperate to release rage on the world. The soothing words of Lance made no difference at all.

  
  


Plaxum had her head on Lance’s shoulder, a blanket strewn over her small body. She looked even smaller when she curled up like a dried leaf. Her breaths were shuddery, fingers clenching at the ends of the blanket. Lance carded his fingers through her hair.

 

“She was the love of my life,” Plaxum said, not looking up to him. “She was… my everything. I was really in love. She was a constant, always there with a bright smile and everything. It really brought a light into my everyday.”

 

“I know the feeling.”

 

“Yeah, Keith, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Lance said, playing with the strands of hair. “He was my everything. I loved him. I think I still do… or maybe I fallen in love with him all over again. I don’t know.”

 

Plaxum giggled. “You guys are a mess.”

 

“We’re working on it,” Lance said. “So… What happened to Lori?”

 

“She… was depressed,” Plaxum said tentatively. “She cared so much of pleasing her parents, pleasing everyone. She was working everyday and she had nightmares. She had these really dark thoughts that she only shared with me. I never would have thought she’d think of these things. I’ve met her family. They didn’t know we were dating at the time, but I could tell they had high-expectations. Florona–”

 

“Florona?”

 

“Oh, that was her real name,” Plaxum said, blushing. “Lori was a nickname I gave her.”

 

“Florona sounds fancy,” Lance said, “Sounds like the type a rich family would give.”

 

“Oh, they were practically royalty from back where I lived,” Plaxum said, “They owned chains of commercial buildings, schools, libraries, you name it. They were praised like kings and queens. They basically ran the whole the island.

 

“Lori was pressured to be best daughter. I guess her parents wanted her to be a politician, but she really wanted to be teacher–”

 

“Is that how you met?” Lance asked and then flushed. “Sorry for the questions!”

 

Plaxum shook her head and then smiled. “I don’t mind.”

 

She leaned back, resting her back on the arm rest. “Yes, that’s how we met. We were both Political Science majors.”

 

“We became best friends, then we became something more. We moved in together–”

 

_Woof!_

 

Plaxum grinned wryly, “And we got a dog.”

 

Lance laughed.

 

“Then her parents started… calling her. Every phone call left her in tears. She’d just cry on my lap until she fell asleep. Then… I started seeing how depressed she became. She turned in assignments late, over-sleeping, not eating enough, and sometimes we wouldn’t even talk for days ‘cause she’d never leave her room. She’d say she felt sick or tired or something that would just made her bed ridden...so I started doing her work for her.”

 

“Like her papers?”

 

She nodded, biting her lip. “Florona was failing. I wanted to do something for her. I knew she felt like she was being left behind by the others… especially with me. That was around the time I started looking up for law schools.”

 

“Florona found out about it. I don’t know how, but she begged me to not go without her. I felt really bad about it. Then she found out about me doing her work and turning them in. She got in trouble for plagiarizing...crap, I felt so stupid and useless. Florona was really mad at me. Then the school ended up calling her parents and she got even more down. I really thought I would be helping her. But she started doing her work, started being herself more. I was happy, I was finally seeing Lori again.”

 

Plaxum stopped.

 

“And then… she killed herself.”

 

“ _Oh shit_ ,” Lance cursed internally.

 

“I couldn’t go on without her,” Plaxum said as she sobbed. “How could I? How could I do that to her? I have no right to go pursue my own dreams if I let hers die.”

 

“Do you want a hug?” Lance asked hesitantly.

 

“Yes, please.”

  
Lance held her tightly, cradling her in his arms. This was love. Not the romantic kind, but the kind that you need. The kind that felt like understanding. It was familiarity and pain. It felt like two good friends sharing an intimate moment. That was exactly what it felt.

 

Everyone said love hurts, but that was not true. Loneliness hurt. Rejection hurt. Losing someone you _loved hurt._ Everyone often confused love as these feelings, but love was the only thing that kept the pain away and made some felt whole again.

 

“I miss her so much,” Plaxum said, “Why’d she leave me? I never left her.”

 

“I don’t have all the answers,” Lance whispered. “I can’t help you with that, but I can help you try to find yourself again. You told me that people had unfulfilled potential and you want them to reach and surpass their potential.”

 

He grabbed Plaxum face. “I see so much unfulfilled potential in you.”

 

This was life. People will screw you over. You will fight with your family. You’ll witness things that will change you. You’ll blame people for what other people did. You’ll lose best friends you thought would always be there. You come to realize that everyone will have a past. You’ll cry, you’ll laugh, you’ll embarrass yourself, and you will love. Then you will find that one moment where nothing happens, but will change you in the future. Maybe someone you love won’t be there to see it, but what’s important is that you live to see it in the present. You will realize that the shit that happen to people are the people who can handle it. That is who people are, who you are. No one should be able to prove you wrong, no one should change you, even the people who you thought who could.

 

“You… you need to learn to let go of her,” Lance said, wiping a tear. “Everyone you’ve met in your life are meant to be in your journey, but not all of them are meant to stay until in the end. You are your own adventure, Plax.”

 

Lance sighed, and then gave her a sad smile. “I get Florona because I am depressed guy. From my view, even if you’re friends, I don’t think you’re obligated to be open about everything to each other. If you make a friend at college, it’s fine if you just meet them at college. It’s not like you’re going to the grave together or anything. In any case, we’re all walking different paths. You’ll meet more new people in new places. It doesn’t matter if they cut off contact. It’s enough just knowing that during that time, you weren’t alone and you were with someone. There’s no need to recklessly try to continue a relationship that died.”

 

 _Or maybe a relationship that grew apart,_ Lance thought, thinking of Keith. It still felt strange to have him back in his life. There was still the choice of having Keith as… something more.

 

“I’m scared to go on my own,” Plaxum said, biting her lip. “It’s scary to not have her around me. I won’t have anyone to fall back on if I fail. I’d be lying if I said I can handle losing Florona and now she’s gone… I don’t know what’s going to happen if I move on without her.”

 

“I always choose the choice that scared me the most,” Lance said, rubbing circles on her back. “When Delilah died and left me with Ari… It was a scary choice, but I never regret it. **Never**.”

 

Plaxum swallowed the lump in her throat.

 

“Remember Bob Marley?” Lance asked.

 

Plaxum let out a breathy laugh. “Of course I do.”

 

“I got another one from him,” Lance said, _“Love the life you live. Live the life you love.”_

 

.

.

.

 

Lance tucked in Plaxum, gently placing the blanket over her. Lance heard something play on Plaxum’s phone. He picked up the phone that was nestled between two pillows. The voice got louder, and he placed it up on his ear, listening carefully.

 

**_“Hello! No one is available to take your call. Please leave a message after the tone.”_ **

 

**_Beep!_ **

 

**“Hey, baby! Haha! It’s me.  I miss you so much. I can’t believe I’m stuck with my parents the whole summer. It’s such a bummer. Hey! That rhymed! Ugh, it’s going to be forever to see you again. I’m not going to lie, not really going to miss school, but I am totally dying to see you again. I have no idea why we’re in like the Philippines in the summer. Hm, I guess it’s for scouting new areas for warehouses or something dumb like that. IT’S SO HOT! You grew up here, right? It’s really beautiful. The waters are aaaamaaaazing, nghhh. I’ve been surfing all day here in the south. I’ve learned to say this to you, ‘Mahal Kita!’ Ain’t that pretty? It means ‘I love you!’ in Filipino. You probably know that. Hey, Plax, I have this plan. I’m thinking of letting you meet my family. I don’t know! It’s such an exhilarating idea. Maybe one day, we’d get married and have a honeymoon, adopt some kids, and like live in a… bahay kubo? Hahahaha, or was it a nipa hut? I don’t know. It’s really beautiful and I love it here so much! You are so lucky to be grow up here. So here’s my plan…”**

 

It brought Lance his own pain, remembering to listen to countless voicemails of Delilah. Even now, Lance would tell himself that, yes, his sister is dead and gone, but he still had the ill hope of listening her voice.

 

Maybe that manifestation of that hope truly fucked his head up because now he saw his sister everywhere.

 

He didn’t know what he wanted.

.

.

 

_Delilah stood by the balcony, leaning against the railings. Her blonde hair was flowing with the soft night breeze. Her dark blue dress, swishing from it. The butterfly pinned neatly on the side of her head. She sighed sadly._

 

_“Hi...Xavier.”_

 

_Lance leaned against the wall, watching her sullen form. She had an untouched glass of champagne on railings. It felt wrong to break this silence._

 

_“I don’t want to let you go, but I should. I’m trying,” Delilah said. “I miss you. A lot. How–how are you?” The silence was her answer and it hurt. “I’m good, getting better. Everyday still feels...numb. It’s been a year now...Well, it’s New Year’s Eve.”_

 

_She took a shuddery breath. “I came to ask you something,” she hesitated, small tears leak out of her eyes. “Would it be okay for me to move on? I don’t have anyone that special to me right now… Well, there’s this guy I saw in my orientation, and...he’s really cute, haha.” Delilah laughed brokenly. “I was thinking… if I ever do find someone…” and she can’t help the sob that came out her. “Is...Is it okay for me to be with someone else?”_

 

_A gust of wind blew past, wiping her tears, feeling it cool against her skin. It pushed against her curly blonde hair a bit too much. Delilah laughed and took it as a sign._

 

_“I’ll take that as a yes,” Delilah said with a smile. She brought out a ukulele, the one she got for her birthday from him. She stared at it, gently caressing the butterfly pattern on the wood. “Thanks for this...I love it,” and then started to strum._

 

 **_“Hold me close and hold me fast_ ** ****_  
_ **_This magic spell you cast_ ** ****_  
_ **_This is la vie en rose_ ** ****_  
_ ****_  
_ **_When you kiss me Heaven sighs_ ** ****_  
_ **_And though I close my eyes_ ** ****_  
_ **_I see la vie en rose_ ** ****_  
_ ****_  
_ **_When you press me to your heart_ ** ****_  
_ **_I'm in a world apart_ ** ****_  
_ **_A world where roses bloom_ ** ****_  
_ ****_  
_ **_And when you speak_ ** ****_  
_ **_Angels sing from above_ ** ****_  
_ **_Everyday words seem_ ** ****_  
_ **_To turn into love songs_ ** ****_  
_ ****_  
_ **_Give your heart and soul to me_ ** ****_  
_ **_And life will always be_ ** **_  
_ ** ****_La vie en rose”_

 

_She stopped her strumming and gave her familiar bright grin. “Goodbye, Quarterback.”_

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

There was something about the city at night. Maybe it was because Lance couldn’t see the stars from the air pollution. Maybe it’s because the city lights were prettier than the stars. Lance didn’t know. He trudged down onto the familiar path. His clenched fists inside the pockets of his jacket.

 

Thunder rumbled in the distance and a bolt of lightning cracked the midnight blue sky into two. Jagged flashes of bright light casted a glow against the monochromatic background. The rain was slowly cascading in diagonal sheets. The soft pitter patter onto the pavement. Lance quickened his pace.

 

Thunder rolled across the sky, seeming to crack the world in half and reveal the fury of the gods. From across the street, Lance saw a familiar blonde figure waving at him with a sad smile. A car went past them and they were gone.

 

Lance shook his head, cursing his head for his imagination. He gripped the cigarettes tighter as he went through the doors of the bar.

 

Drinking cold beer was probably the dumbest idea especially in the cold weather, but Lance felt hot, so hot in his jacket. The cold against his heat felt like the greatest luxury on earth. The ice fell against the glass, his fingers sliding on the condensation before they regain their grip. Lance felt the chill run down his esophagus and through his head as he drank. He made an involuntary shudder. A numbness crept into his brain the way it did when I was a kid drinking too much slushie too fast.

 

Lance never really liked beer, but for once, he took one. It was his fourth one this time. He already felt the buzz in his system. He was breathing in musty air. His head had a way of lolling when he was close to complete inebriation and the bartender had known him long enough to spot the signs. He raised his hand with less coordination than a concussed troll and slurred more than spoke, "Fuuuuck my life."

 

“What’s wrong this time?” Coran asked, twirling his moustache.

 

 _Well, my fucking dead sister keeps popping up out of nowhere like a game of peek-a-boo,_ Lance thought with a wry smile.

 

“I have a lot on my mind,” Lance said with a sigh.  He took a long swig of the dark substance. _“A lot,”_ he emphasized.

 

His surroundings were turning into a fun house. Imaginary figures appearing and disappearing in a blink of an eye. The lack of sleep was finally playing tricks on him.

 

Being drunk was Lance’s coping mechanism. Whether a bad day at work or an argument with his parents on the phone, drinking alcohol until closing time was always the answer. He'd stagger through dark streets, one hand on the nearest wall. His head felt like thumping drum.

 

“Penny for your thoughts?”

 

“My thoughts are worth more than a penny,” Lance said with a slur, “But sure.” Lance picked one thought from overflowing the garbage pile that was his mind. “Keith.”

 

“Of course that would be on your mind,” Coran said with a joyful laugh. “My boy, you need not to think too much on the matters of the heart.”

 

“What do you mean?” Lance asked with narrowed eyes.

 

“Do you know why you’re confused?”

 

“What the fuck is with that question? Of course I don’t.”

 

Coran didn’t mind him, but gave him a smirk. “You’re afraid that you won’t find something in Keith in anyone else.”

 

“Well...that’s true.”

 

“I think you have thantophobia,” Coran said wisely. “The fear of losing someone you love.”

 

“I’m not afraid!” Lance said defensively, “I just have a hard time letting go of things. What Keith and I had… was electric. Right now, all we have is just static.”

 

“Hm,” Coran hummed. “I’ve been on to a million adventures, my boy. I fell in love with a million different people, but I’ve learned that learning to live didn’t mean jumping off cliff or skydiving–”

 

“You did that?”

 

“–To me, I think learning to live was just to learning how to slowly love yourself and letting yourself be loved by someone. I think you and Keith weren’t just meant to be back then since both of you...couldn’t love yourselves. Maybe that’s the reason why Keith left. He needed some time to figure himself out. I think you did as well. I don’t see the over-energetic insecure gangly-limbed boy now, but I see a loving father.”

 

“But–”

 

“There are times that you need to stop beating yourself up over your mistakes,” Coran said, swiping the beer bottle away from him. “Even for other’s mistakes like Keith’s.”

 

Lance kept silent.

 

“You need to forget who Keith was before,” Coran said, patting his shoulder. “You should focus more on who Keith is now. That is what you need to question about now, do you love who Keith is now?”

 

“Uhm..”

 

Coran puckered his lips and hummed again. “Well, is he always up on your mind?”

 

 _Hell yeah._ “Yes.”

 

“Well, he’s probably supposed to be up there,” Coran said with a smirk, shrugging. “And if he isn’t, he’s not the only guy in the universe.”

 

“But he’s the only who matters,” Lance said, and then his eyes widened. “Holy shit.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“I love Keith,” Lance said.

 

“Oh, there you go, Laddie!” Coran said, grinning. “You’ve found your answer.”

 

“I love Keith,” Lance said, gripping his hair. “HOLY FUCKING SHIT! I’m in love with him! AGAIN!” Lance said, almost like a man in mid-life crisis. “HOW DOES THAT STUPID MULLET DO THAT!?”

 

Well, maybe Lance was in over his head again, but he knew that he was attracted to that mullet and he was willing to give him a shot!

 

Maybe he was not in love, but he was learning not to let go of people that easily and he was not letting that boy go again. Not anymore.

 

For all he knew, it wasn't love.

 

They were in **_like_ **.

 

“Its greasiness has love potion potents in it,” Coran said. “His mullet brings all the boys in the yard.”

 

“Holy fuck! I have to go!” Lance said, but before he can, Coran plucked the keys off his hands.

 

“Nope, you are not driving drunk,” Coran said, shaking his head. “You are taking the bus.”

 

Lance made a repulsed face. “What! I never rode a bus since college!”

 

“There’s a first for everything,” Coran said, pocketing the keys. “Toodaloo!”

 

Lance groaned, but didn’t stop the smile on his face. “Thanks for the advice!”

 

.

.

.

 

It was dawn as the bus trundled the stop. Everyone awake. Everyone asleep. Their eyes were bleary, reactions slow, tiredness running in their veins just the same as their blood. It took forever, it seems, to the passengers, for the engine to roar into life. When it did, a funny feeling came onto Lance’s stomach, not excitement, though at first it appears that way. It was some relief, some fear, some grieving for the place they leave.

 

“Wait!”

 

Lance turned to see a young girl tapping the automatic doors furiously. As the doors opened, several glared at her from awakening them from their slumber. Lance would never sleep on a bus. The thought of all kinds of germs that spread every inch of the vehicle made his skin crawl. The girl sat next to Lance, ducking her head and biting her lip.

 

She was clad in a dark beanie, similar colored clothing and a pair of ratty old sneakers. There was backpack filled to the brim, the zipper making a poor attempt of sealing the items inside.

 

Lance couldn’t help it. “Hey.”

 

The girl whipped her head to him and then said in a small voice. “Hello.”

 

“Don’t mind those guys,” said Lance.

 

“I won’t,” she said.

 

“What are you doing at this time?” Lance asked. “It’s almost five in the morning.”

 

“Um...well, I’m running away,” she said sheepishly, “for awhile.”

 

“Why?”

 

“My best friend and I got in this big fight,” she said. “A really big one.”

 

“Can I ask what it was about?”

 

“It’s stupid.”

 

“I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my life, trust me, I know what stupid is.”

 

“I’ve said some hurtful things,” she said. “I...I’m in love with him, you see.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“He’s in a relationship and it’s a good one,” she said, groaning. “That’s the worst part. I can’t help feel jealous. Do you expect to feel fine about this?”

 

The bus hit a pothole causing them to jump a little.

 

“I don’t know the whole story.”

 

“I just graduated college, but I realized that we wouldn’t be in each other’s lives after that. So...I followed him here. I looked for a job and made this bullshit excuse to ask him to move in with me for a budget,” she said with a huff. “We’ve been okay, but then he’s met this girl. He’s honestly so in love with this chick.”

 

“Isn’t chick demeaning for the matriarchy?”

 

“You sound like a tumblr user,” she said with a raised eyebrow.

 

“I’m not, but my friend Pidge is,” Lance said, “You might know them? They go by **_ChirpChirpMotherfucker_ **?”

 

“Yeah! I know them,” she said, nodding. “They’re hilarious.”

 

“I’m guessing you spend a lot of time on tumblr,” Lance said. “Maybe that’s why you ran away.”

 

“Yes, I ran away because Tumblr told me to,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

 

“But hey! You’re smiling,” Lance comment, feeling accomplished.

 

“Yes, I am, thank you,” she said with a giggle.

 

“Back to your problem, what exactly caused your fight?”

 

“I lied to him,” she said sullenly. “I had a pretend boyfriend, but now...I think the guy likes me.”

 

“This sounds like shoujo manga,” Lance muttered.

 

The girl glared at him.

 

“Or a well-written fanfiction,” Lance said, holding his hands up. “Hopefully a friends to lovers, mutual pinning tag?”

 

“You are something else.”

 

“I would give you kudos and paragraph comment,” Lance said. “Every writer’s dream.”

 

“Actually, I am a writer,” the girl laughed. “ _And_ a fanfiction writer.”

 

“Don’t tell me,” Lance said and then whispered, “You write Voltron fanfiction?”

 

The girl sucked in a breath. “How did you know?”

 

“Akira and Isamu are definitely gay for each other,” Lance said. “One hundred percent.”

 

“I feel we will become good friends,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder.

 

“Cool, so as your friend, I’m just going to say that you shouldn’t run away from your problems,” Lance said.  “People used to just tell me to shut up, but with time, I’ve realized it’s not good to shut up. I have to speak so people will understand me. I may not… do it as often as I like, but it’s good to talk about things. You can talk to me, the random stranger on the bus, because I feel you have no one to talk to right now.”

 

The girl bit her lip and then sighed. “How do you do that?”

 

“Do what?”

 

“Tell my panic to shut up. I don't know how you do it and I don't need to. Knowing that you can, and so effortlessly, is enough,” she said, watching the rain fall. “Are you therapist?”

 

“No, but a lot of people treat me like one,” Lance said dryly. He turned his head to the window as well, watching water droplets splashing softly hit the windows. The skies were overhung with a blanket of grey, so much so that Lance could barely tell the difference between the sky and stormy clouds. Despite riding the bus was a tedious task, the rain commonly calms him. He wanted to feel the rain against his skin.

 

“Is he always up on your mind?”

 

“Who is?”

 

“The guy you like?”

 

“No,” she said with a pout. “I’m thinking about the other guy.”

 

“You know,” Lance started, “Someone told me that if he’s up on your mind then he deserves to be there.”

 

“That’s some… advice.”

 

“What’s your name?” Lance asked.

 

“Aleja,” the girl said.

 

“Well, Aleja, get off the bus,” Lance said.

 

“What?”

 

“Go to the guy you thought about and get off the bus,” Lance said. “I’m counting on you.”

 

She stared at Lance, and then nodded. She pushed the button for a stop and rushed out, but before she left turned around, she asked, “What’s yours?”

 

“Alejo,” Lance said, giving her a cheeky smile, “But you can call me Lance.”

 

Aleja grinned, “See you!”

 

Lance saluted and then watched the girl run to the opposite direction. He slumped into his seat, letting out a sigh of relief until he heard the bittersweet voice.

 

“That was nice. What you did, I mean,” Delilah said.

 

“Do I have to have another reminder of my goddamn dead sister,” Lance muttered. He glared dully at her, feeling so so so tired. It was quiet and subdued, always hoping for a respite from the raging storm outside. “What do you want?”

 

“I want what you want,” Delilah said sadly. “Peace. Moving on.”

 

“It feels so impossible,” Lance said, thumping his head on the window. “How can I live without you?”

 

Delilah sighed. “I don’t know, Lance. How can you?”

 

“You’re driving me crazy!” Lance said.

 

“Maybe you are,” Delilah said, “I’m just in your head remember? I can’t answer all your questions.”

 

“I just… I miss you so much, Lala,” Lance said, placing his hand on hers. He felt nothing but air. “I miss you so fucking much.”

 

“I know,” Delilah said, hugging him close. Lance didn’t feel it and he hated it so much. “I know you miss me, Little Brother.”

 

“I’m not so little anymore,” Lance laughed morosely, small tears coming down his cheeks. “I’m older than you now.”

 

“You’ll always be my little brother, no matter what,” Delilah said, “Okay? I love you so much, Lance.”

 

“I love you too,” Lance croaked out.

 

Delilah sighed and then shook her head, “I’ll see you later.”

 

And then with blink of an eye, she was gone.

 

And then Lance heard screaming.

 

And then he felt something collide next to him.

 

And then he felt something sharp, metal maybe, pierce his leg.

 

The world flipped. Spinning like a merry go round.

 

Then the world turned black.

.  


.

.

 

_Yeah, I, I know it's hard to remember_   
_The people we used to be..._   
_It's even harder to picture,_   
_That you're not here next to me._   
  
_You say it's too late to make it,_   
_But is it too late to try?_   
_And in our time that you wasted_   
_All of our bridges burned down_   
  
_I've wasted my nights,_   
_You turned out the lights_   
_Now I'm paralyzed._   
_Still stuck in that time_   
_When we called it love_   
_But even the sun sets in paradise_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WAIT SO WHOSE POV ARE WE DOING NEXT!?!?!?!
> 
> The lyrics in the end are Payphone by Maroon 5 and Wiz Khalifa! :D
> 
> LEAVE A COMMENT AND SOME KUDOS, I GET SHIT DONE FASTER WITH MOTIVATION!
> 
> (if you still remember Ari's full name then you will get how he got it ;D )
> 
> WHY DO I KEEP KILLING PEOPLE OFF 
> 
> hm, ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	21. Random Update #3

Hello again, Dear readers!

 

It's ya boi, back at it again with random (useless) updates.

I think its the perfect time to start talking about myself since... what happened in the last chapter XD

Recently I've been working on myself— well, meds and therapy and such blahblah. I think i'm doing "okay" and i have had some good days! 

Also, I wanna just say thank you for 7k hits! OH WOWIE, never expected that to happen! (considering i didnt even know that i was going to go past chapter 2 LOL.)

You guys are like the best! Amazing readers and such. I always take some time to answer the extra long comments bcos those are exceptionally nice bcos wow, never really expected to see that much words LOL ... 

The story is ending, and that's something i feel very accomplished about :'D ... Honestly, I have the ending planned so don't worry about this story being on hiatus or discontinued. BUT updating might take a while cos im busy nowadays and take some time in writing the story and a good ending.

If you've been a loyal reader since the first day I started posting then thank you, I appreciate you a lot of going thru my shitty grammar. 

You guys are in a special place in my heart <3

 

Next, I'm already planning and writing my next fic. It's an actor au, so i'm excited to try and make the story unfold. (obviously there's going to be angst. Everything i touch just turns into angst)

 

Whose POV are we doing next? What will we see from it? What happened after Lance... blacked out?

Leave a comment and share me your thoughts :D <3

I might take some ideas in account ;)

 

If you wanna follow me on tumblr: dindorkenstein

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life As We Go Through It  
> .  
> .
> 
> For, after all, you do grow up, you do outgrow your ideals, which turn to dust and ashes, which are shattered into fragments; and if you have no other life, you just have to build one up out of these fragments. 
> 
> ~Fyodor Dostoyevsky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Ari POV! 
> 
> This completely unedited, un-beta read, so enjoy the raw emotion. :)
> 
> I don't know if this was a shit chapter, but i did try my best.

At twenty-three months, Ari knew how to read. That was probably one of the first few signs why Papa realized Ari wasn’t just a normal kid. It happened one day, in a mundane Sunday morning with Papa cutting up vegetables and apple slices.

 

And then Ari suddenly said, “Papa!”

 

Papa glanced back, giving him a small smile, “What is it, Ari?”

 

“Papa!” Ari repeated, “ _Remeembeer_ to take meds!”

 

Papa blinked, nearly dropping the knife right onto his long fingers. He glanced down on the table, noticing the message that read what his son had just said.

 

And then at this point, Papa just screamed, “You know how to read!?”

 

“Ya,” Ari said, “Apple, please.”

 

.

.

.

  


Four years old, Ari was jumping on furniture, drawing on walls, and talking non-stop. He stopped reading picture books at this point, focusing more on short stories and poems. Reminded Lance of Mike, but with Delilah’s over-energetic bouncing ball of energy. At school, he knew multiplication and sedimentary rocks. Ari still smiled more frequently back then, getting complimented like the smart young boy he is. His smile was like Delilah’s, a sliver of crooked teeth, corners slightly upturned. He was a cute boy, they say, such a good boy, freckles and blue eyes just like his Papa.

 

Ari ran from room to room, wearing a bucket over his head, water-gun in hand. Auntie Shay was in the living room, reading another romance novel by bestselling author. He didn’t care much about those kinds of books because love was gross and girls have cooties.

 

Ari knew he was a troublemaker. Papa was one, so that automatically makes him one too. Genetics and heredity and all that, something he read on one of those books his dad gave him.

 

He heard the door open. He whipped his head up to the clock on the wall. Papa came home at the letters “VI”. He rushed to the door, abandoning the bucket and water gun on the floor.

 

He stopped in front of his dad, staring at him with wide blinking eyes. His work clothes are a bit frazzled, a light stain on his blue shirt, and his hair a perpetual mess.

 

“Papa,” Ari said, and jumped into his arms. His dad let out a breathy sound from the sudden added weight. He snuggled between where his shoulder and neck meet. It’s familiar and warm. He took the familiar scent of coffee, cigarettes, and mint. Ari didn’t particularly like the smell of smoke, but he knew that Papa smoked ‘cause Papa was tired and had a lot of stress. It was something Ari learned from a while back when Papa would go out into the fire escape to smoke a pack and cry.. He didn’t really know why Papa cried.

 

He would figure it out like that one book about a detective and a doctor.

  


.

.

.

 

First day of school was scary. Ari did not particularly know why he had to go to school. He was learning all kinds of stuff really easily and it was not like homeschool wasn’t a thing. Ari did not like to be associated with other kids mostly because Ari was different, not like other kids, and Pidge said that girls had cooties.

 

“You can do this Lance,” Lance said, psyching himself up.

 

Ari did not know why his father was giving himself a pep talk when he wasn’t the one going to kindergarten.

 

“Papa,” Ari said, watching the way parents bidding their children goodbye. Moms peppering kisses on their children’s cheeks, dads giving hugs. Ari licked his lips, shuffling towards Lance with an apprehensive look on his face. He hugged his leg, muffling his voice with his pants.

 

“I don’t wanna go.”

 

“C’mon, Ari, you have to,” Lance said, nudging him away.

 

“No.”

 

“Mijo.”

 

“No.”

 

“Let’s go.”

 

“Por favor,” Ari said, pouting. “I don’t wanna.”

 

“Why are you so scared all of the sudden?” Lance asked, trying to hid laughter.

 

“I’m not scared!” Ari squeaked, letting go of the fabric. “I’m just… worried.”

 

“Worried?”

 

“What if I don’t make friends?” Ari asked, biting his lip.

 

Lance sighed, crouching down to his level. “You will.”

 

“How do you know?” Ari said, crossing his arms.

 

“Because just like your mama, you have a nice smile,” Lance said bopping his nose and then grinned. “A very pretty smile if I may add.”

 

Ari stayed silent, processing his words slowly. “Like... _Mama?_ ”

 

“If anyone talks to you, then smile! No one can get mad with a smiling face. Got it?”

 

Ari smiled and nodded. His crooked teeth in full display.

 

“Smile alright? No matter how hard it is, okay Mijo?”

 

“Si, Papa!” Ari said, kissing his cheek.

  
  
  


.

.

.

  
  


The party Ari went to was some child he didn’t particularly know and care for his birthday. He went there because Papa said so and that kid’s mom was an old friend. There was a lot of ruckus for just one kid, and honestly, Ari didn’t even know why he even bothered to come. The party games are boring and prizes were plastic toys he didn’t even want. The other kids are bundled in one setting, waiting their turn to hit the piñata with a bat. Ari already hit people with bats, so he was sure he can hit that stupid-looking donkey dead-on.

 

So he sat out of, eating a small slice of chocolate cake. That was when he heard it or maybe that was how it started, the whispers and the pitying stares. The secret glances and hushed words.

 

_“That’s him, right?”_

 

_“He’s so big now. I would have thought he’d be smaller, considering the accident.”_

 

_“He looks just like Mike, doesn’t he?”_

 

_“He has a spitting image of Delilah. He has her eyes.”_

 

_“I feel absolutely terrible of what happened.”_

 

_“They died so young, of course you’d feel bad.”_

 

_“Who’s taking care of him now?”_

 

_“Delilah’s brother. The hot one.”_

 

_“Oh, you! Remember that ring on your finger!”_

 

Ari looked down on his plate. He didn’t feel that hungry anymore.

  


.

.

.

 

Ari visited his grandparents a lot. Lance’s parents to be exact. The house was huge and it was reasonable because it used to house a lot of his aunts and uncles back in the day. The house was cozy and warm. It was filled with old trinkets and knick knacks: pictures of family vacations littered all over the walls. It always brought a smile upon Ari’s face, but this time, there was a frown marring his features.

 

“Abuela?” Ari asked, tugging on her long skirt. “Quien es ella?” _Who is she?_

 

“Quien, Mijo?” Abuela said, turning around to face the wall. _Who?_

 

“Esa señora,” Ari said, pointing at the smiling blonde woman on the pictures. _That woman._  “Nunca la e visto en realidad. Apenas lo realize. Ella es una tia?” _I’ve never seen in her real life. I just realized it now. Is she an auntie?_

 

Abuela’s smile morphed into a sad smile, small tears escaping her eyes. She started wiping them frantically.

 

“Abuela, estás bien?” _Are you okay?_

  


“Si, estoy bien, Aristotle,” Abuela said, sniffing, she turned away, walking towards the bathroom, “Solo dame un momento para tranquilizarme.” _Yes, I’m fine. Just give me a moment to compose myself._

 

Ari stood awkwardly, grimacing slightly. “Well… no tomes tanto tiempo.” _Don’t take too long._

 

“Te voy hacer unas galletas,” she laughed, but it sounded broken. _Yes, I’ll make you some cookies_

  
  


.

.

.

  


May started and Ari was on his chair, reading another book when his teacher started to announce that they would make cards for Mother’s Day. Ari didn’t know much about this concept other than that you just make heartfelt messages to your mother and expect to have a lot of crying and kisses in return.

 

The teacher handed out some construction paper and safety scissors. She took out the box that held hall the sparkly decorations like glitter and colorful sharpies. Glitter can blind you, Ari recalled, maybe it was because it was too bright. Ari was often called a bright child, does that mean he blinded people too?

 

When everyone started doing their works, Ari just sat awkwardly in front of his blank sheet of paper. The teacher must have noticed his troubled and confused expression. She went up to him and crouched down to his level to give him a bright smile.

 

“What’s wrong, Ari?” asked the teacher, cocking her head to the side.

 

“Um,” Ari started stiffly, glancing around the class. “I don’t have a mother,” Ari answered quietly, barely a whisper.

 

“Ah, well,” the teacher said with a surprised face and then it quickly morphed into something sad. Ari didn’t like that, so he frowned. “Do you have a father?”

 

Ari was just about to say yes when he remembered some person called **Mike**.

 

“I don’t know.”

  


.

.

.

  


“Who are you?” Ari asked his dad—No, he asked Lance one night. Who the heck was this guy?

 

“What?” Lance said, looking at him with confused eyes. “I’m Papa, are you okay?”

 

“You’re not my dad,” Ari said, crossing his arms. “Did you steal me?”

 

“No, why would you think that?” Lance said, getting up from his chair.

 

“Why don’t I have a mother?” Ari asked, biting his lip. “All the other kids in school have mothers, so where’s my mother?”

 

Lance kept quiet, not sure what to say, and then sighed. “Mijo, your mother isn’t here anymore.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Your mom is...not alive,” Lance said, almost as if pained him to say so.

 

“Oh,” Ari said, looking down his feet. Oh, he had ten toes. He looked up and simply said, “Okay, thanks.”

 

Lance paused for a while and then quietly said, “No problem.”

 

.

.

.

  


Ari ran towards his classmate, Sam. “Sam!”

 

The boy turned around, a small smile on his face. “Yeah, what is it?”

 

“You forgot your backpack,” Ari said, handing him his bag.

 

Sam laughed, scratching the back of his head. “Oops! Thanks, Ari.”

 

“It’s no problem,” Ari said, grinning his best smile.

 

“Sammy!” a woman called. The two boys turned to the sound. Ari saw two women next to each other with bright grinning his face. They both waved at the boys.

 

“Oh, well, those are my moms,” Sam said sheepishly.

 

“You have two moms?” Ari said, cocking his head to the side curiously. “How does that work?”

 

“I don’t know, but does it matter?” Sam said with a shrug.

 

“I have one dad,” Ari said, biting his lip. “That’s it.”

 

Sam widened his eyes. “You don’t have a mommy?”

 

“No,” Ari shook his head. “I don’t.”

 

“Where is she?”

 

Ari thought of clouds, and well, that was stupid. No way was his mom on a cloud. That was not possible. Ari then shrugged, “She’s dead.”

 

Sam looked at him awkwardly. “Well, um, I should go. Thanks again.”

 

“Yeah, no problem.”

 

.

.

.

 

Ari was playing ball with the other kids for once. That was something his dad wanted him to do: interact. Ari did not really know why he needed to come and play with other kids. He didn’t really need that many friends. He had cooler friends back home and he had his books. Some people look up to Ari because he was smart and knew what to say. Sometimes, it would seem to look like an intimidating trait that a young boy could possess.

 

Ari liked to think that was not the case. They’re just scared of what they don’t know. Ari asked too many weird questions. He liked to defend his explanations like any other intelligent beings which brought the reason he got into a fight.

 

Jason was throwing the ball towards Ari, sighing boredly. “Honestly, Christmas is going to suck this year.”

 

“How come?” Ari asked, passing the ball to Aaron. “What’s wrong with Christmas?”

 

“My parents are taking us to my grandparents,” he groaned, “It’s so boring. I don’t know why we have to come up there.”

 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that,” Ari said, frowning. “It’s family.”

 

“My family sucks! All I do is get scolded,” Jason said, receiving the ball. “My little brother gets all the good stuff and special treatment.”

 

“Well, he’s a baby, isn’t he?”

 

“Yeah, but my parents pay too much attention towards him.” He passed the ball to Ari. “It’s not like I’m not their son anymore. Maybe I’m adopted?”

 

Ari stumbled a bit from sudden statement. “Ah, I don’t think so, you look like your dad.”

 

“So do you, but your dad isn’t your real dad, right?” Jason asked snarkily. “I’d trade my parents for something better.”

 

“You’re stupid,” Ari said, throwing the ball to the grass. He turned around to leave.

 

“You wouldn’t understand,” Jason said, picking up the ball. “Your parents are dead, so your dad has to take care you ‘cuz you’d be all alone.”

 

“Hey.”

 

“Doesn’t that suck though,” Jason said turning to Aaron who wore a shocked expression. “My mom used to talk about you and your parents a lot. _Oh no, a poor orphaned boy with no family, no parents._ I don’t know how you do it. It’s pretty painful thing to hear.”

 

“You know what else is painful?” Ari said with a smile.

 

“What?” Jason asked.

 

“This,” Ari said, before splitting his knuckles into Jason’s front teeth.

 

.

.

.

  
  


Ari loved his father. He loved Lance. That was one thing he needed to say to set the record straight. He made him hot chocolate, tucked him in bed and kissed the tears away from a bad nightmare. Ari knew that Lance loved him back with all his heart, but Ari was put on such a spot. There was just something that screamed responsibility for being the center of his father’s attention. Maybe ‘cause he was Lance’s stability and there was just so much pressure for being the reason why someone’s still alive.

 

He didn’t like it when Lance drank too much wine, took a longer smoke break, or worked too late. He didn’t like when he found his dad passed out on the kitchen table, papers strewn on every space and a empty bottle of whiskey and half open pack of some cigarrettes. He doesn’t like it one bit. He hated it even.

 

Lance was not an abusive dad in no way at all. He’s the best anyone could ask for. Ari doesn’t like to imagine too much of Lance not being at there and just have two strangers as parents. He would always choose Lance.

 

But Lance was abusive on himself and that scared Ari more than any scolding or yelling at all. There was always the chance that Lance could die at any moment, really. Sick or not, it was your actions that determine your fate.

 

_“Arrorro mi niño_

 

_Arrorro mi sol_

_Arrorro un pedazo de mi corazon_

_Este niño lindo se quiere dormir,”_ Lance muttered softly, rocking him back and forth.

_“Háganle la cuna de rosa y jazmín_

 

_Háganle la cama en el toronjil_

_Y en la cabecera pónganle un jazmín que con su fragancia me lo hago dormir,”_

  


Ari was an orphan, but he really didn’t want to be an orphan right now.

  


.

.

 

Ari never really knew that he had a second set of grandparents. It was always Abuela and Abuelo. So it was quite a surprise to find an unknown couple in the living room with his father. The elderly woman looked like a frail sparrow. She had an elegant looking dress that stopped around her knees and a pair of short heels. The other man had round glasses and a face full of wrinkles.

 

“Um… Hi?” Ari said tentatively.

 

“Mijo, come here for a sec,” Lance said, motioning his hand for him to move next to him. Ari did so, shuffling quietly right next to his dad, squirming under the gaze of the couple.

 

“Oh my God,” the woman said, her face crumbling into a sad smile. “He looks just like him.”

 

“Uh,” Ari said, huddling closer to his father. “Papa, quien son estas personas?” _Who are these people?_

 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Lance scolded, “This is Sarah and Tom.”

 

Ari shyly waved.

 

The couple chuckled.

 

“They’re your grandparents,” Lance said, gesturing to them. “Mike’s parents.”

 

“Mike?” Ari repeated, “My dad?”

 

“Yes,” Lance nodded. “Why don’t you spend some time with them, yeah?”

 

“I don’t know…”

 

“Aristotle,” Sarah said, smiling like royalty. “We love you very much. We want to know more about you. You’re a very special boy.”

 

Ari blushed, ducking his head down. “T-thank you.”

 

“Yeah, definitely his son,” Tom said with a throaty chuckle. “Do you want to get some ice cream?”

 

“Can my papa come with us?” Ari asked, gripping Lance’s hand.

 

“Of course he can,” Sarah said softly. “We’re going out as a family.”

  


.

.

.

  


Ari licked his blueberry ice cream, still holding Shay’s hand. He listened quietly to her conversation with the phone.

 

“No, Lance,” Shay said with a sigh, “It’s just ice cream.”

 

“You don’t need to pay!” she laughed, “It’s really not a big deal.”

 

“Alright, you want blueberry?” Shay said, repeating the words from the phone. “You and Ari have similar tastes.”

  


.

.

.

 

When Ari met Keith for the first time, he honestly thought he was some sort of homeless guy. He wore a lot rips in his clothing, his hair looked like a dead rat and Ari has seen The Walking Dead once, he knew what a muerto looked like.

 

Ari was not rude to people, well, most of the time anyways. He didn’t have a filter sometimes. Maybe it was the vibes his father was giving in dark waves. Ari could feel the tension between the two men. It was thick enough to be cut with a knife.

 

There’s just something about Keith that Ari didn’t like.

 

.

.

.

  


Keith was an orphan.

 

Well, that was something to note.

  


.

.

.

 

Ari plucked the strings of the ukulele, fingers digging into the thin strings, his knee bouncing in every chord. He bobbed his head up and down, trying to capture the correct rhythm.

 

Keith moved one finger down the string, pressing it hard against the instruments neck. “You missed this one.”

 

“Ah, okay,” Ari said, redoing the song again.

 

“Why’d you pick this song?” Keith asked, genuinely curious.

 

“It’s very easy to learn,” Ari said, continuing on his strumming. “It’s also a classic.”

 

“You don’t have any other reasons why you chose this?”

 

“It’s… something special.”

 

“You want to elaborate on that?”

 

“Well, I saw this couple a while back. They were dancing to this song. They looked really happy and at peace with their lives. Content even. It’s like dancing with your own memories in a way. It sounds really cheesy, I know, but there’s just so much meaning behind the word.”

 

“It’s not cheesy,” Keith said with a smile. “It’s moving. You’re on the right track.”

 

“Thank you,” Ari said, grinning, “There’s a song my mom used to sing a lot.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah, I don’t know the lyrics, but it was a really good song,” Ari hummed, trying to play the tune. “I wanted to play that, but I decided against it.”

 

“How come?”

 

“Well, it’s a love song,” Ari said, chuckling, “I wanted to play it when Papa gets married, you know? He really loves this song, so I’ve been trying to look for it while he’s not around.”

 

Keith was quiet, putting his chin on a knee. “I could help you find it.”

 

“The song?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll be glad to help you find it.”

 

.

.

.

  


Ari was reading another book while sat by the window, listening to the quiet pitter patter of raindrops pelleting to the glass. It was good to listen to the rain while reading a good book and hot cup of chocolate by your side, the scent wafting into the air. It smelled like nice dreams and happiness. Something Ari needed in his life. He took a sip of his hot beverage.

 

That was when he heard it. A sound breaking into the silence. He put the book down and glanced down to the building. The sound was soft, barely noticeable, but he could still hear it. He opened the window, struggling to get out. He came to the fire escape, gripping the rails. He was at a dizzyingly tall height.

 

He recognized the sound as kittens crying. Ari gulped. Lance was cooking dinner. Ari couldn’t go outside without being caught.

 

“This might kill me,” Ari said with a grimace.

 

Despite his fears, Ari continued going down the fire escape. Nearly slipping off the wet metal. He gripped the rails harder, knuckles turning white. He took one last step before landing down on the dirty puddle of an alley.

 

Ari shielded his head with his arms, walking towards the sopping wet box. He looked into it and saw five pairs of blinking eyes.

 

Ari hitched a breath.

 

“Oh, I’m in trouble.”

  


.

.

.

  


_“To be, or not to be: that is the question:_

_Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer_

_The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,_

_Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,_

_And by opposing end them? To die; to sleep;_

_No more; and, by a sleep to say we end_

_The heartache and the thousand natural shocks_

_That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation_

_Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;_

_To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub.”_

  


Ari closed the book, wiping the sleep from his eyes. _Well, Hamlet was definitely a really sad guy,_ Ari thought wryly. There was a bit more to what meets the eye and the book really did speak a lot about a lot of things. Ari was a bit guilty of reading it, especially with the message it sent. The book brought light to how people truly feel about death and existence.

 

Was it better to put up with all the bad things life gave you, or was it better to just end all the pain and run off into death’s _“undiscovered country”_ ? Hamlet’s problem wasn’t just about his painful love woes, his father’s death and his murderer marrying his mother. His problem was that no one really knew what death would bring and that was scary for Ari to comprehend. Ari didn’t believe in gods or anything, but he still felt chills at the thought of being just a wandering sorrowful soul on earth. Ari noticed that Hamlet’s whole soliloquy wasn’t really addressed only to himself, but perhaps for people in general. _Suicide is a thing_ , Ari shivered from the thought.

 

“What do people really expect from death anyways?” Ari asked to himself, yawning. “It’s not like dead people come and tell you. That’s a bit creepy.”

 

The small kitten in front of him mewled.

 

“Does death make us all wimps?” Ari asked the cat as if seeking some sort of truth from small creature. “We all die eventually, so does it really matter how and when we die?”

 

The cat meowed.

 

“You know, my parents are dead,” Ari said, resting his chin on knee. “It’s weird that I miss them even though I don’t know a lot about them.”

 

_Meow._

 

“Yeah, your mom’s dead too,” Ari said, pouting. “I’m just assuming. I don’t think any mother is willing to leave five babies in the rain. That’s just cruel.”

 

_Meow._

 

Ari sighed, collapsing onto his pillow. “Philosophy is so weird, Blue.”

 

 _Meow_.

 

Ari angled his head to face her. “My dad, Mike, was really into books. This is his copy. I’m trying my best to understand more about him. I heard that’s he’s a really good guy and I want to know more about him, you know?”

 

Blue looked at him with curious eyes, cocking her head to the side and then meowed.

 

“My mom? Well, Mama was a really beautiful person. Papa has a lot of pictures of her in the albums. Those paintings were from her. She’s really good at it! I wonder if she was still here if she’d teach me… She was an art teacher back then, so she probably would have.”

 

The room suddenly turned silent. There’s just something really intimate about it. Ari embraced the voiceless whispers from ghosts.

 

“Did my parents deserve to die? I don’t think so,” Ari said, staring up at the painted starry night sky on his ceiling. Connect the dots, find a new universe.“The world is just too cruel.”

_Meow._

 

“Goodnight, Blue.”

 

Ari sneezed.

  


.

.

.

 

“Did you get me something?” Ari asked with a smirk, crossing his arms expectantly.

 

Keith chuckled, hiding something behind his back. There was mirth dancing in his eyes, and then he grinned. “I don’t know, did I?”

 

“You are obviously hiding something behind your back,” Ari said, pouting.

 

Keith sighed playfully, handing him a gift that was wrapped in shiny blue paper. “You caught me.”

 

“This better not be a t-shirt or something lame like that,” Ari said, unfoiling the package. He opened it to reveal a ukulele strap. Ari stared at it in awe. There was a intricate pattern, sort of an Aztec looking style, but it was the familiar colors that made Ari smile.

 

“Really? Voltron colors?” Ari said with a grin.

 

Keith shrugged. “You needed a strap for that ukulele of yours. Don’t want it to fall while you play.”

 

“That’s useful,” Ari said, playing with the straps. The rough texture felt good against his fingers. “Thank you. I like it a lot.”

 

Keith smiled, a small blush on his cheeks. “It’s no problem.”

 

“No, I appreciate it,” Ari said, almost shyly. “I never really expected you’d give me a gift.”

 

“How come?”

 

“I’m mean to you,” Ari said wryly.

 

“I don't take any of those personally,” Keith said with a laugh, ruffling Ari’s hair. Ari swatted it away.

 

There was a loud crash on the other side. Ari and Keith whipped their heads to the side, startled at the loud sound. Ari found his father lying down on the ground, groaning.

 

“Oh no,” Ari said hurrying towards him.

 

“Lance!” Keith yelled out, he rushed towards the man. He plopped down next to him, hovering over him, concern written all over his face. “Hey, hey, you okay?”

 

“Huh?” Lance said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Shit, my head hurts.”

 

Ari sighed, licking his lips, he went towards Pidge. “I think the party should be over now,” he told them.

 

“Yeah,” Pidge said and then clapped their hands together, “All right! Party’s over. We got a man down already.”

 

.

.

.

 

Ari continued strumming his ukulele, the sounds becoming harsh and erratic. It was too rushed, too anxious to even be called music. His fingers were littered with tiny cuts, wrists turning red, lips gnawed raw.

 

“Hey, hey,” Keith said, grabbing the boy’s wrist. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Papa is too depressed,” Ari said, corners of his lips curved down. “What do I do, Keith?”

 

“Just… be there for him,” Keith said, patting the small boy’s back. “Your dad is going through a really tough time. I think it’s best that we try not to stress him out so much.”

 

“I’m so confused,” Ari said, putting the instrument down. “What can I do to save him? It’s like trying beat cancer.”

 

“Cancer can be treated, Ari.”

 

“I can see him dying. It’s not about being sad, it’s about his whole self changing,” Ari said morosely, gripping his hair. “Do you know how many times I have to wake up from his screaming, his crying? I can’t sleep anymore. I think he’s getting worse.”

 

“He’s going to be better if we can take care of him,” Keith said softly.

 

Ari sighed tiredly, looking at Keith with exhausted eyes. He already felt older already. “...What if we’re not enough….What if I’m not enough?”

 

“Ari…”

 

“Keith, I already have one father dead,” Ari said bluntly, narrowing his eyes. “Do I need to lose another one?”

 

“Stop talking as if Lance is already a lost cause, Ari,” Keith said, almost angrily. “Do you have so little faith on your father?”

 

“I feel like I’m getting depressed too,” Ari said, small tears coming out of eyes. “I didn’t want to wake up today because everyday is the same and I’ve been waiting so long for things to change.”

 

“Don’t say that,” Keith said, hugging him tightly. “You’re going to get through this. Lance is going to get through with this.  and I’ll be there.”

 

“We do this now?” Ari said with a laugh, “Hugging?”

 

“If you want,” Keith said, carding his fingers through his wavy dark hair. Ari learned towards it like a small cat.

 

“I do want,” Ari said, sniffling, he brought his arms up, hugging Keith’s middle. He felt a pointy chin on his head. He felt safe. “Thanks, Mami.”

  


.

.

.

  


Ari was reading another book on his lap, fist pressed against his cheek. Thunder rumbled in the distance, shaking him away from his thoughts. He jolted in place. He sucked in a breath, and quietly padded out of the room.

 

“Grandma?” Ari called out, hugging himself, his pajama bottoms pooling around his ankles. “Grandma? Are you here?”

 

“Aristotle? Why are you still up?” Sarah said, opening the door to find her quivering grandson. “What’s wrong…?”

 

“I don’t like the thunder,” he said, biting his lip. “It scares me.”

 

“Oh, dear,” his grandmother sighed. She opened her arms wide, Ari taking the invitation gratefully. “It’s alright, my love, it’s alright. Why don’t we make a cup of hot tea?”

 

“Okay,” Ari said, he gripped her hand tightly.

 

While he sat on the couch, drinking his tea, the phone rang.

 

“Who could that be?” his grandmother said, walking towards the item. “Hello?”

 

“Yes, yes, he’s here,” his grandmother said hurriedly, “What! No, that can’t be happening.”

 

“Celestine, just calm down, he’s right here. He is safe.”

 

“How did this happen?”

 

“What! He’s in the ICU?” Grandma paced around the kitchen.

 

“When?...It’s nearly five in the morning.”

 

“Yes, yes, we will be right there.”

 

Ari peeked out from the door, eyes wide. “Grandma?”

 

“Aristotle, we must go to the hospital, okay?”

 

“Why…?”

 

“You..Your father’s in there.”

 

Ari’s mug dropped onto the tiles.

 

.

.

.

  


Ari stood outside the double doors, frozen in place. His teeth were chattering, knees buckling from the cold air the AC is blowing or maybe it’s the sick situation. He wanted to puke because he couldn’t think of blood right now.

 

He was there, standing next to Grandma and Abuela, watching them have a heated exchange with the doctor. Ari hasn’t really said anything since the ride there. His senses have become muted like drowning in diluted water.

 

So it went like this.

 

Lance was drunk, so he couldn’t drive. Coran took his keys away from him, putting it in his pocket. Papa was kind of mad, but he didn’t really care because he had something to do.

 

Lance went to the bus station, waited, and took the last ride there. He was in a big hurry because he had something to do.

 

He met a person. Her name was Aleja. They have a long talk. She left the bus with a bright smile and a purpose.

 

Lance smiled because he had something to do.

 

Then things become really weird then. Papa fell asleep at some point, completely missing his stop. People say he was talking in his sleep, which was nothing new to Ari. They probably thought Lance was a random crazy dude.

 

But why did that matter? Lance had something to do. Something really important.

 

Then this stupid driver fall asleep on the wheel, causing them to go past a red light. Another bus came forward, a collision happened. The bus Lance  was on flipped, spun and spun like throwing a toy down the stairs. Bounce, bounce, crash.

 

There was about ten people dead, eight injured and two in critical condition. One of which was Lance.

 

How could any of this happen?

 

_“Can… can I see Papa?”_

 

Because Lance had something to do.

 

.

.

.

 

Everyone was here. His aunts, uncles, cousins. It was as if it was one big family reunion. Kinda like Christmas, birthday or funerals. Everyone was crying except Ari. Ari hadn’t cried yet, much to everyone’s surprise. His aunts have been peppering him with wet kisses. His uncles have been taking turns hugging him. Ari felt really hot. Maybe he was getting a fever, but that did not matter, did it? His dad was in surgery, getting cut open. He heard there was a giant shard of metal stuck inside his leg. Ari wanted to vomit, but maybe later, he was… He was doing nothing. Useless again.

 

Ari’s ear perked up from the sound of a familiar voice calling his name. The person came running in, wearing his familiar dark, homeless-like clothing. The signature red flannel draping his shoulders.

 

 _“M-Mami?”_ Ari said, lips wobbling.

 

“Yeah, I’m here,” Keith said, grabbing him, hugging the crap out of him. Ari snaked his arms around his neck, burying his face in between his shoulders. He inhaled the same musky, cigarette, minty cologne mixture. There was always something calming about that scent. “I’m here. We’re all here.”

 

He cracked his eyes open, tears escaping his eyes. In front of him was all of his dad’s friends;Hunk. Pidge. Shay. Plaxum. Shiro. Allura. Matt… Even Doctor Slav was there.

 

“Mami, I’m losing him,” Ari cried into his shoulder. “He’s dying! He’s leaving me all alone! ”

 

“Hey, look at me. Ari, you’re not alone,” Keith said, hushing him. “Just...keep crying. It’s okay to cry. We’re here. We’re all here.”

 

Ari nodded into his shoulder, clutching him tighter.

 

.

.

.

 

So.

 

The good news was that Lance made it. He did it. He was alive.

 

But…

 

He was in a coma.

 

“Bullshit,” Ari said, frowning.

 

“ _Aristotle_ ,” both his grandmothers scolded.

 

“We’re monitoring for any activity as of the moment,” the doctor said with a sigh. “He’s doing fine….We just do not know when he is going to wake up.”

 

“Don’t know!?” Ari seethed, coming forward. “What kind of doctor are you? That’s my dad in there. You want to tell me that? Motherfu––”

 

Keith covered his mouth, muffling English and Spanish expletives coming out of his lips. The rest of the family sighed.

 

“We are trying our best, _sir,_ ” the doctor said, almost mockingly.

 

Ari bit Keith’s hand. Keith winced at the sharp teeth gnawing his palm.

 

“Do more!” Ari tried to say, but came out it as a garbled sound.

 

.

.

.

 

Ari went home to an empty house. It seemed dead.

 

He went to the hallway and stared at his parents.

 

He glared at them, teeth grinded together.

 

“You keep him safe, okay?” Ari said, balling his fists together. “I want you to protect Papa.”

 

Their frozen smiles were his only response.

 

Ari didn’t believe in gods, but… he believed in his parents. Maybe that was enough.

 

“If you love me, you will keep him safe for me,” Ari said placing his forehead down on the table, thumping it lightly. “ _Please.”_

 

“Don’t make him leave,” Ari pleaded, crying his heart out. Red-hot tears ran down his face. It was more than just crying, it was the kind of desolate sobbing that came from a person drained of all hope. He sank to his knees at the tiny vigil. His breath hitched as his knees felt the friction against the carpet and he slumped down. “ _Don’t make him leave like you left me._ I forbid you to!”

 

This was heartbreak.

 

Heartbreak was trying to accept a new disturbing reality that has arrived uninvited

 

.

.

.

 

**Growing up is never straight forward. There are moments when everything is fine, and other moments where you realize that there are certain memories that you'll never get back, and certain people that are going to change, and the hardest part is knowing that there's nothing you can do except watch them.**

_Alden Nowlan_

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DIDNT KILL HIM OFF YET!  
> Have faith in me jeez XD
> 
> also! PLEASE LEAVE SOME KUDOS AND A COMMENT!!! <3 <3


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life As We Have It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG! I cant believe i made this far! AAAA!

Lance was not on the ground. That was what everyone had been saying to be thankful for. Ari should be grateful because it could have been worse. His father was alive and breathing...even if he was breathing with the help of a machine. Tubes come out his mouth, his throat and his skin. Whenever Ari came to visit, a nurse would always be there to remind him not touch anything. It was common sense for him not to touch and Ari wanted to roll his eyes everytime. What did they take him for? An  _ idiot?  _

 

Keith watched him from afar, still holding Ari’s hand because Ari refuses to let go of it. Keith ended up being Ari’s caretaker through much persuasion from both grandmothers. It was dramatic and had too many tears for him to handle. 

 

“I want to stay with Keith,” Ari said resolutely, jaw clenched and somehow it vaguely reminded him of Lance’s sister… except it was something along the lines of “ _ stay away from him _ .”

 

“Aristotle,” his grandmother, Lance’s mother to be more precise, started,“You can not.”

 

“I can’t be away from Papa,” Ari said, gnashing his teeth, “None of you live here in the city.”

 

“Aristotle,” his other grandmother said softly. “You can stay with us and grandpa—”

 

“I don’t want to stay with you!” Ari cried out. “I want to stay with Keith! Only Keith!”

 

Ari’s tears spilled out, landing on the carpet into small dark dots and choked out, “Please.”

 

“Aristotle, you barely even know—” Lance’s mother was about to say.

 

“I KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT KEITH!” Ari yelled out, stomping his foot, “I know that he is an orphan. I know that he loves Papa so much that it hurts him. I know that he’s lactose intolerant. I know that he plays guitar outside in his fire escape. I know that he tries so hard to make people like him. I know that he misses his dad. I know that—”

 

“Ari, that’s enough,” Keith said, putting a hand down his shoulder. He crouched down to his level. “You really want to stay with me?”

 

Ari nodded frantically, swallowing a lump in his throat. “I do.”

 

Keith sighed and stood up to face the two women. “Can I take him? Please?”

 

The two women glanced at each other and then sighed, both giving him a small smile. “Make sure he eats.”

  
  


.

.

.

 

_ “I want to stay with you!” Lance said, tears in his eyes. He rubbed his eyes frantically, swiftly wiping them away with his sleeves. “Please don’t leave me.” _

 

_ “I’m no good for you,” Keith said, hitching his backpack. “You know that.” _

 

_ “I love you,” Lance said, biting his lip, “You know that.” _

 

_ “I..I..Lance, I can’t—” Keith tried to say, but couldn’t because Lance had thrown his arms around him.  _

 

_ “Don’t leave me, please,” Lance whispered into his ear, kissing the shell of it.  _

 

_ “You’re making this harder,” Keith said, croaking. “We can’t be together.” _

 

_ “Why not?” Lance said, voice muffled.  _

 

_ “I won’t always be there for you,” Keith said, feeling his heart creak whenever Lance squeezed him tighter. “I can’t be at two places at once. I won’t be able to be the person you want me to be.” _

 

_ “You’re who I want,” Lance said through his teeth, breathing hard. “You’ll always be who I want.” _

 

_ “I can’t—” _

 

_ “When you’re gone, I’ll always remember you,” Lance said, kissing his neck. “I’ll always cry for you.” _

 

_ “Don’t cry for me, please,” Keith said with a sigh, trying to push him away.  _

 

_ “Who’s going to love you when I’m gone?” Lance said, whispering sad nothings.  _

  
  


_. _

_. _

_. _

  
  
  


Ari ate his cereal quietly, swinging his feet as he sat on the bar stool. Keith was in front of him leaning against the counter, swirling his own cereal, watching the small circles float carelessly in milk.

 

_ “Cool. Well is this a date?” _

_ Lance paused, then a grin broke. “If you ignore the cereal, then it is.” _

_ “It can be a date even with the cereal,” Keith said, fighting the smile erupting his features. _

 

Keith sighed, picking up the spoon and took a mouthful of it.

 

“Keith,” Ari said, looking at him strangely, “Why are you eating cereal?”

 

Keith looked up from the bowl. “Why wouldn’t I?”

 

“You’re lactose intolerant,” Ari said wryly, “You shouldn’t eat cereal.”

 

Keith’s eyes widened, pushing the bowl away. “I forgot.”

 

“How do you forget something as important as that,” Ari said, face palming. “I can’t believe it.”

 

“Believe what?” A new voice piped up. They turned to find Pidge giving them a raised brow. They wore a pair of worn overalls and a green shirt that had an alien print on the front. 

 

“Keith ate cereal with  _ milk,” _ Ari said, jutting a thumb towards him. “What an idiot.”

 

Keith whipped his head to him, narrowing his eyes, “Hey.”

 

Pidge cackled, a high-pitched yodeling type. “Of course he would.”

 

“What does that mean?” Keith asked, slightly offended. 

 

Pidge made an indistinct voice, totally noncommittal and opened their laptop. “You know what I mean. You just go all absent whenever you think too hard on something.” 

 

“Lance is in a coma,” Keith said with a deadpan, looking at Pidge with apprehension. “What else should be on my mind?”

 

“I didn’t say you were the only one thinking about it,” Pidge said, shaking their head, typing away on their document, “Lance is the only thing in my head right now.”

 

Ari shoved the bowl away from him, biting his lip. “I’m going to get ready.”

 

Keith nodded with a quirk of his lips, ruffling the boy’s hair. “We’ll be here waiting for you.”

 

A heavy silence settled in the room. There wasn’t even any familiar click-clacking of Pidge typing on the keyboard. They stared at the empty page in front of them, watching cursor blink endlessly. 

 

Keith didn’t know if it was them staring at the computer for too long that made them cry, but small tears had started falling off their eyes. They blinked them away hastily, wiping at them with their sleeves. Keith pushed off the counter and then stood by them stiffly, he pushed his hands into his pockets. 

 

“Hey… you okay?”

 

Pidge rolled their red-rimmed eyes. “Yeah, I’m bursting tears of joy.”

 

“It’s okay, you know, to cry,” Keith said, settling right next to them. “I don’t mind it.”

 

“I don’t cry often,” Pidge said, sniffling. “I just remembered a conversation Lance and I had a few months back.”

 

“What was it about?” Keith asked. 

 

“Just… Lance trying too hard to keep things together,” Pidge said, fiddling with their fingers. They’re red. Nails were jagged as if they’ve been bitten on too much. “He talks a lot. Always the optimist, never giving a sign that he’s unhappy, but I know just how much he’s been hurting. He never forgot what happened that night. He blames himself a lot.

 

“It’s not his fault. Everyone knows that. I think Lance has a hard time trying to accept that. It’s pointless, really, to even try and say it anymore. It’s like people are programmed to say shit like that. It’s like when Matt went missing. I was so mad at the world. I couldn’t bother with shit like ‘Katie, nothing could have been done’ or ‘it’s not your fault’. Yeah, I do know that. I know I couldn’t have stopped Matt from going to that trip. Lance knows he couldn’t stop his sister. He knows he couldn’t save her. That’s a thing that both us had trouble trying to understand.”

 

Keith can understand. Cancer just happens, just mutates, and just kills. The question as to why his father died still kept Keith up at night. Shiro going to war, losing his arm and seeing his broken body covered in bandages, arms and legs— _ Arm  _ and legs. They are all laced up limbs. 

 

Keith knew it wasn’t his fault. He knew that he couldn’t stop Shiro from going. He knew that he didn’t trigger the bomb that destroyed the bones and tissues. 

 

Just like he knew it wasn’t his fault that Lance was confined in a goddamn bed, motionless, but not lifeless.

 

...Right?

 

“The difference was that I got Matt back,” Pidge said, biting their lip. “You got Shiro back, not in one piece, but he’s there. He’s alive.”

 

“I can’t… imagine losing Shiro,” Keith said like a confession. “I’ve already lost him once, but I always knew I would find him again.”

 

“I’ve looked for Matt,” Pidge said, covering their mouth, trying to prevent the sob coming out of their mouth. “I found him against all the odds.”

 

“But Lance… He couldn’t...Shit,” Keith cursed.

 

“Lance focuses all his attention and energy on Ari,” Pidge said, clenching their fists. “He doesn’t have the time to grieve, doesn’t have the time to let go.”

 

“I hope he doesn’t let go now,” Keith said quietly, “I don’t want him to go.”

 

“Neither do I.”

  
  


.

.

.

  
  


_ Keith hadn’t played guitar since Dad got admitted into the hospital. It gathered  dust in the corner of his match-box sized bedroom.  _

 

_ Right now, Keith was the one gathering dust, tucked in an uncomfortable position in an uncomfortable chair. It was all right angles and hard lines. The plastic covering squeaked every time he moved. Which was a lot, considering how everything in this damn room made Keith so uncomfortable. Room 101 was sterilized hell on earth.  _

 

_ Shiro just graduated, but he hadn’t made any moves to go to university. He was too busy working, tending tables on a college budget, giving them a good-natured smile. It was very polite, too polite to be considered genuine. Shiro still managed to close every night and make it back to the hospital.  _

 

_ The nurses and doctors were used to him at this point. Keith had been in the hospital almost everyday. His guitar was left at home, untouched for weeks.  _

  
  


_. _

_. _

_. _

  
  


Room 214 was just the same as Room 101. There was still the same amount of machines that kept Dad alive...for a time. Keith didn't like to dwell too much on that. Right now, Ari was next to him dozing off into the afternoon. The blinds separate the light, splitting them to tiny slits of gold. The beeping sounds were dreadfully familiar, the heart rate still going steadily, which was a good thing. 

 

There was too much to think about.

 

He carefully placed Ari’s head on a pillow, making sure he didn’t wake him from the movement. He got up and then sat on the edge, staring at Lance’s comatose state. He looked like he was asleep, serene, free from any nightmares.

 

“Hey,” Keith started, licking his chapped lips. “I just came here to say hi, well, again. If you hadn’t noticed, I’m here everyday. I wake up too early or I just don’t sleep at all. You make me nervous, you know that? Even if you just lay there and say nothing, you make me really nervous.”

 

He flexed his fingers, watching the way that Lance’s stayed still. 

 

“I want to know what happened,” Keith said, sighing, “Why were you out so late? Coran said you left to go do something… something important. I want to say that I’m okay, but I’m not. You’re not okay. You almost died and no one knows when you’re going to wake up.”

 

_ Beep _

 

Lance still had no response. 

 

“There’s still so much you have to do,” Keith said, grasping the immobile fingers. “You still have to see Ari grow up to be the man you want him to be. To be the man his parents wanted him to be. My dad never had the chance to see me like this, don’t you dare make that same move.”

 

Keith sighed through his nose. 

 

“You reminded me so much of him,” Keith said, squeezing his hand. “Sacrificing for the people you loved.” 

 

_ Beep _

 

“This is really not fair,” Keith said, “Just… stay with me. Wake up.”

 

.

.

.

  
  


_ “Wakey-wakey, eggs and bakey!” Dad said, dropping the plate down on Keith’s lap.  _

 

_ “Wha-what?” Keith said, groaning from the sudden weight on his legs. “Dad, what are you doing?” _

 

_ “I made you breakfast,” Dad said, grinning a gap tooth smile. “You need to be strong boy and strong boys come from being well-fed.” _

 

_ “I’m strong,” Keith said, raising an eyebrow. He eyed the bulges on his arms. _

 

_ “Not strong enough!” Dad said, patting his head. He then shoved a fork full of bacon into Keith’s mouth.  _

 

_ “Mmf,” Keith said. _

 

_ “What was that?” _

 

_ Keith swallowed the food. “Why are you doing this?”  _

 

_ “It’s because I love you,” Dad said simply, bopping his nose.  _

 

_ “You love me?” Keith said, still shocked at the revelation.  _

 

_ “What, you didn’t know!?” Dad said, genuinely surprised, “Was I not obvious enough?” _

 

_ “No, no, it’s the right kind of obvious,” Keith said, gesturing wildly. “It’s just… strange to hear it from you.” _

 

_ “Why would it be?” _

 

_ “I’m not used to saying anything like…love.” _

 

_ “We need to fix that!” Dad said, leaping out of the bed. He left the room, but returned quickly with a worn-out looking guitar.  _

 

_ “A guitar?”  _

 

_ “Back in my youth, I used to sing,” Dad said, slapping the guitar. “Yeehaw!” _

 

_ “Stop,” Keith said with a groan. _

 

_ “I’m just kidding,” Dad said with a chuckle. “It’s true. I was in a band, traveling with my buddies. We were called… Marmora!”  _

 

_ “Marmora?” _

 

_ “Indeed, my dearest Keith Gerald—” _

 

_ “Please don’t call me that!” Keith said, his voice rising to an octave. “Anything but Gerald!” _

 

_ “What! You were named after my wife, you know that!” Dad said. “My my, my beautiful Karen Geraldine!” _

 

_ Keith cringed so hard that he could have been sent to a different realm.  _

 

_ “Alright,” Dad said, started tuning the guitar. “Well, let’s see…” _

 

_ “What are you going to sing?” Keith said, curiously. He almost looked like a small kitten from the way his hair was fluffed.  _

 

_ “Well, I was thinking of some Elvis Presley,” Dad said, humming along as he plucked the strings. “That’s the king.” _

 

_ “Oh, him,” Keith said, sitting up properly.  _

 

**_“_ ** **_Lord Almighty,_ **

**_I feel my temperature rising_ **

**_Higher higher_ **

**_It's burning through to my soul,_ ** _ ” Dad sang, bobbing his head up and down.  _

 

_ He continued the song with a burning fervor, his voice deep and then quickly switched to a different song. _

 

**_“Baby, lock them doors and turn the lights down low_ **

**_Put some music on that's soft and slow_ **

**_Baby, we ain't got no place to go_ **

**_I hope you understand—”_ **

 

_ “Oh my God!” Keith said, burying his face into his hands. _

 

_ “Oh come on! It’s a classic!” his dad protested, pouting at Keith’s disappointed face. _

 

_ “Fine!” his dad stopped. He placed a hand on his chin, scratching the beard. His eyes brightened as if suddenly hit with a brilliant epiphany. He turned to Keith with a megawatt grin.  _

 

_ “Now, this song! This song holds a special place in my heart, Keith,” his dad explained with soft eyes, plucking the strings. “This is the song that won the heart of Takashi’s mother, you see.” _

 

_ Keith nodded, not making a sound. _

 

_ The song started playing softly, thick fingers carding through the chords like caressing a small child’s head. His dad took a breath and sang. _

 

**_“Hold me close and hold me fast. This magic spell you cast. This is la vie en rose”_ ** _ Dad sang, eyes going half-lidded.  _ **_“When you kiss me heaven sighs and though I close my eyes, I see la vie en rose. When you press me to your heart, I'm in a world apart”_ **

****__  
**_“A world where roses bloom. And when you speak, angels sing from above,”_ ** _ Dad played, lifting his eyes to meet Keith’s, dark eyes meeting startling violent ones. “ _ **_Everyday words seems to turn into love song. Give your heart and soul to me and life will always be la vie en rose.”_ ** ****__  
**_  
_ ** _. _

_. _

_. _

  
  


Keith sat on the couch, circling the rim of his mug. Shiro was next to him with his own mug of hot chocolate. Shiro wore a cashmere sweater and a pair of loose jeans. It reminded Keith a lot of their father. Shiro was an exact replica of Dad if you asked Keith. The same hard jaw, broad shoulders and dark eyes. 

 

“You alright?” Shiro asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. Keith nearly flinched from the contact. 

 

“I’m just…tired,” Keith said, which was an honest answer. Keith was so exhausted. “I don’t know what to do, Shiro.”

 

“A lot of us don’t know what to do,” Shiro said with a sigh of his own. “We just need to hope and pray that Lance makes it out of the woods.”

 

“That’s what scares me,” Keith said, gripping his hair. “What if he doesn’t make it? What if he never wakes up, Shiro? He has a deadline… Literally.”

 

“This house has no room for any morbid thoughts,” Shiro declared, placing the mug down the table.

 

“Takashi, I’m home!” Keith heard from the front door. Keith glanced at Shiro with an amused smile.

 

“He calls you Takashi?” Keith asked, biting his lip, holding back the laughter. 

 

“Shush, you,” Shiro said, placing his finger on Keith’s lips. 

 

“Oh, Keith, you’re here!” Slav said and gave a small smile, “Are you going to stay for dinner?”

 

“Yeah,” Keith said.

 

Slav made a noise, dropping the pack of Sunflower seeds buns on the floor. “You just made a stain on Gretchen!”

 

“Who’s Gretchen?” Keith asked, completely befuddled. 

 

“You’re sitting on Gretchen,” Slav said, shoo-ing Keith away from the lavish chair.

 

Keith shot Shiro a look. 

 

“Slav takes everything seriously. In alternate realities he thinks the object are real people. Thus, he does not want to abuse them,” Shiro explained, almost to a perfection. 

 

“...But it’s a chair.”

 

“Respect Gretchen’s pronouns!” Slav yelled from the kitchen. “Spatzenhirn!”

 

“Slav is very unconventional,” Shiro said, rubbing his temples. “I mean, he plays TV static in his room and calls it dubstep.” 

 

“No way. That kind of thing only happens in poorly written children's books whose authors have clearly begun running out of ideas!” Keith took a deep breath. “Shiro, are you okay?”

 

“If the rent wasn’t cheap, I would not have chosen to stay here,” Shiro said with a sigh. “Not even for a second.”

 

“But you’re...Shiro, you do realize that you’re blushing,” Keith commented. 

 

Keith wasn’t stupid, he had seen the movies, watched the shows, witnessed  his brother’s relationships. Keith knew that Shiro and Slav, not bickering, being awkward, blushing red faces, walking around each other, it wasn’t normal. This was a  _ crush _ .

 

“WHAT THE FU—”

  
  


.

.

.

 

_ “—ck is his problem?” Keith asked in his head, watching the hard-ass called Iverson. _

 

_ Keith had this uncanny ability to make himself a jackass without even trying, so it was no wonder Lance hated him and kept annoying crap out of him.  _

 

_ “Hey, pay attention you pigs,” yelled Iverson at front, gathering his papers. “Go take your damn seats.” _

 

_ Keith took a seat in the middle, feeling, already, incredibly bored. He propped his chin on one hand, staring blankly ahead until he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned his head and met ocean blue eyes…and blue hair? _

 

_ “Hey!” Lance said, smiling like the sun. It honestly felt like he was going too close to a bright star, feeling himself getting burnt. “The name’s Lance.” _

 

_ Keith raised an eyebrow. _

 

**_You idiot, don’t be a jerk!_ ** _ Keith chided. _

 

_ Internally Keith was berating himself and turned away from him, continuing his blank staring forward. In the corner of his eyes, he could see Lance furrowing his eyebrows and lips curved downwards.  _

 

_ “What the fuck,” Lance muttered, “He’s ignoring me.” _

 

_ It wasn’t that Keith liked him from the very beginning, honestly. He found Lance so fucking annoying. He just kept running his mouth like some kind of motor boat, talking a million things per second. Keith, however, continued on his silent treatment. _

 

_ And so, Lance started getting his attention in ways that made feel like he wanted to rip his hair out. _

 

_. _

_. _

_. _

  
  


_ Lance threw rubber bands on his face.  _

 

_ Keith pursed his lips, feel them bounce off his cheek.  _

 

_ Ignore him. _

 

_. _

_. _

_. _

  
  


_ Lance draped his upper body on his desk, disrupting Keith’s intense reading.  _

 

_ “Let me bother,” Lance said, staring up at him with owlish eyes. “Am I bothering you?” _

 

_ Ignore him. _

  
  


_. _

_. _

_. _

 

_ “Is your face paralysed? I never once saw your face move a muscle,” Lance said, poking his cheek. “You don’t seem to react when I piss you off, assuming that you are pissed off. For all I know you might be turned on by me teasing you. That is a pretty weird kink, I’ve heard worse though. One time I accidentally found myself in clown porn, and Mullet, you don’t believe—“ _

 

_ “Mullet?” Keith cut him off, frown in place. _

 

_ Lance stared at him with a wide mouth. _

 

_ “You can talk?” _

 

_ Keith nodded. _

 

_ “You can talk.” _

 

_ Keith gave him a flat look and said, “Yes.” _

 

_ Lance’s face twisted into a displeased frown. “Then what the fuck is with the nearly two months of the silent treatment?” _

 

_ “All you do is bug me, make fun of me and throw rubber bands at me,” Keith pointed out, “Do you really expect me to talk to you?” _

 

_ “Yes!” Lance almost yelled, leaning into his personal space. “You should have said ‘dude, knock it off,’ or ‘why are you doing this?’” _

 

_ “I don’t have the energy to engage in any form of conversation that may end up me knocking my fist into your teeth,” Keith said frankly. “So I don’t bother with it, just hoping you’d eventually stop.” _

 

_ Lance scrunched his nose. “You have issues, don’t you?” _

 

_ “Everyone has issues.” _

 

_ “Yeah, but you have more issues than the norm,” Lance said casually and he started to point at his body. “You look like my little sister’s Tumblr dashboard.” _

 

_ “Tumblr?” _

 

_ Lance gawked. “You don’t knowTumblr?” _

 

_ “Those traveling cups?” _

 

_ “What the crap, are you serious right now?” _

 

_ “I think I’m always serious.” _

 

_ “No wonder you always look like you have a stick up your ass,” Lance commented tactlessly. “You look like you came out straight from 90’s grunge…do you like Metallica by any chance?” _

 

_ “I do,” he took out his Walkman. _

 

_ “Oh my God,” Lance exclaimed, looking positively scandalised. “You have a Walkman. How old are you?” _

 

_ “Eighteen.” _

 

_ “Sorry, gramps. You look like you got frozen in time,” Lance said. “Dude, wake up, it’s 2018.” _

 

_ “I am awake,” Keith said, but the dark shadows under his eyes said otherwise. “I think I need coffee.” _

 

_ “You can have mine,” Lance said, shoving his thermos at him.  _

 

_ “…Thanks,” Keith said as he took in a sip. _

 

_ Keith eyes widened and spat out the drink off his tongue. _

 

_ “How much sugar did you put in here? Are you trying to give yourself a heart attack?” Keith asked, returning the thermos. Well, he certainly was awake now. _

 

_ “I like it sweet,” Lance said, “I can’t stand to drink black coffee, way too bitter.”  _

 

_ “Isn’t the point of coffee to make you awake? Black coffee is the quickest way.” _

 

_ “Well, I like pouring salt in my water.” _

 

_ Keith was silent and then leaned away. “That’s awful.” _

 

_ “No? It tastes pretty good, believe it or not,” Lance said with a small smile. “You’re too pale. Have you ever been to a beach?” _

 

_ Keith shook his head.  _

 

_ “Maybe…I’ll take you there when we’re friends.” _

 

_ “You want to be friends?” _

 

_ “Not yet!” Lance said, shaking his head. “Right now, we’re rivals.” _

 

_ Keith gave him a chagrined smile. “Are you for real?” _

 

_ “Real as I can be, babe,” Lance said, winking. “Am I the man of your dreams?” _

 

_ “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Keith asked incredulously. “How do you say all this so easily? Do you think we’re having a normal conversation?” _

 

_ “Ooh, playing twenty questions are we? You must be so invested in me already, Mullet,” Lance gave him a cheeky grin. “To answer your questions, I have a lot of practice and zero shame, also being normal is way too boring.” _

 

_ “I feel bad for your mother.” _

 

_ “Me too,” Lance laughed and it was a really nice one. “My mom seems to smack my ass more than my siblings do. I think it’s nepotism!” _

 

_ “You…you are something else, McClain.” _

 

_ “You do remember my name! Well, sort of,” Lance said, “My parents and friends call me Lance, but damn, Alejandro sounds really sexy, right?”  _

 

_ “Alejandro?” _

 

_ Lance blushed and mumbled bashfully. “That’s my first name.” _

 

_ “Sounds like a mouthful,” Keith said. “But it fits you, I think.” _

 

_ Lance gave him a sleazy grin. “Oh, I know it’s a mouthful—“ _

 

_ Keith put his hand up, halting him to say anymore.  _

 

_ Lance chuckled. “You can call me either of those.” _

 

_ “Okay…Alejandro.” _

 

_ “That sounds so weird coming out of your mouth.” _

 

_. _

_. _

_. _

  
  


_ Keith still called Lance ‘Alejandro’ despite him constantly saying it was really annoying. _

 

_ “Only my mother calls me that,” Lance said gruffly, pouting at him. _

 

_ “I got used to it.” _

 

_ “One day, I will make you say my name,” Lance said, sipping his tea. _

 

_ Keith felt something stir in his chest. _

 

_. _

_. _

_. _

 

_ Lance still liked messing with him especially when it came to ridiculous dares.  _

 

_ “I bet I can open this beer without a bottle opener,” Lance said loudly, trying to voice his words over the booming bass of the music. _

 

_ “Please don’t,” Keith yelled. “That is a bad idea.” _

 

_ “What! You don’t believe I can do it?” _

 

_ “Nope, I really don’t believe you.” _

 

_ “Well, I’m going to prove you wrong, Mullet,” Lance said and placed the bottle on the table. Before Keith could smack his other hand away, Lance slammed his hand down, hitting the neck, causing it to smash into itty bitty pieces. _

 

_ Lance held up the broken bottle, his hand profusely bleeding. He smiled at him stiffly, looking incredibly pale. “I opened it.” _

 

_ Keith smacked his hand on his forehead, feeling the alcohol leave his system, annoyance taking its place. _

 

_ Lance ended up getting a seven stitches, a cherry lollipop and a healing kiss from a very flustered Keith.  _

 

_. _

_. _

_. _

  
  
  


_ “Klance Alert,” Pidge said, sipping their smoothie. _

 

_ “What? What’s a Klance?” Keith said, looking up from his essay. _

 

_ “Keith plus Lance equals Klance,” Pidge pointed out. “You’ve guys have been flirting a lot.” _

 

_ “First of all, how come ‘Lance’ is in it and I just have a K,” Keith said, “Shouldn’t it be like Laith or something? Secondly, we have not been flirting!” _

 

_ “You call him ‘Alejandro’. Every time you say it…I just cringe.” _

 

_ “How is that cringey? That’s his name.” _

 

_ “It’s way too formal for it to be…Lance,” Pidge said, grimacing. “Alejandro sounds like it came out of a telenovela.” _

 

_ “I wouldn’t be surprised if it was,” Keith said wryly. “Also, it pisses him off. How could I pass that up?” _

 

.

.

.

 

Keith had to take Ari to school.

 

Keith stood next to Ari, looking incredibly out of place from the bright and lively environment. He looked like an ink stain on the perfect scenery. Knowing that despite all this sunshine and happiness— Keith wouldn’t run away like he was allergic to the world, but instead he held on Ari’s tiny hand. 

 

“Keith! This is my school,” Ari told him cheerfully, swinging their hands, “Don’t embarrass me in front of my friends with your dumb sad face!”

 

Hunk and Pidge both held back a snicker. 

 

Keith merely rolled his eyes, chuckling silently, “Alright, I won’t.”

 

“I’m serious,” Ari said, pouting. “You look like the Grim Reaper. He’s a bad guy!”

 

“How do you know I’m not bad?” Keith smirked.

 

Ari frowned. “Well, you love—“

 

“Okay! Got it,” Keith interrupted quickly, covering his palm over Ari’s mouth.

 

Pidge raised an eyebrow. 

 

Keith felt something wet and slimy on his hand. He immediately retracted his palm, recoiling at the sight of saliva. “Oh, gross. You are definitely Lance’s kid.”

 

“You ready?” Hunk asked Ari, ruffling his hair. 

 

“I don’t know,” he said, fiddling with the strap of ukulele. “I’m so nervous.”

 

“Don’t be,” Pidge said, clapping his back. “You’re going to be better than all those snot-nosed losers.”

 

Ari gave out a weak chuckle. “Well, I guess I will.”

 

Pidge whipped out their cam recorder. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna get this all on video.”

 

Ari blanched out as if he had seen a ghost. “Oh no.”

 

“Hey, we want to give Lance something when he wakes up,” Pidge said with a shrug.

 

**_When,_ ** Keith repeated in his head.  **_When Lance wakes up._ **

 

“Well, here goes nothing,” Ari said, stepping into the double doors.

  
  


.

.

.

 

_And I would do it for you, for you_  
_Baby I'm not moving on_  
_I love you long after you're gone_  
_For you, for you_  
_You would never sleep alone_  
_I love you long after you're gone_  
_And long after you're gone, gone, gone_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment and some kudos


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life...As We Know It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I..I don't know.
> 
> Still unedited af.

Lance woke up to the sound of his alarm clock. He sighed through his nose, willing himself to finally get up from bed. He pushed himself off the mattress. It creaked under his movement. He stretched his arms up above his head, feeling the satisfying pop of his joints. He brought his hands down to his eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them.

 

When Lance pulled them away from his face, blinking out the bleariness, he realized he was home. His childhood bedroom was still the same as ever: Swimming trophies on the dresser. Posters of bikini-clad women. Paint chipping off on the dull blue walls. It was all familiar, but Lance could not remember how he ended up there in the first place. He turned around, noticing the lack of sunlight, the pale moon outside his window. He glanced down to his alarm, finding the numbers to be read as 12:25 AM

 

“Why would it go off that time?” Lance pondered, until a sudden fleeting thought came into his head. He rushed towards the mirror and gasped at the sight. He looked like his younger self;Free from stress marks, tired blue eyes, and the scar on his chin. There was so much missing and it was scaring him.

 

He walked out of his bedroom. He stood in the middle of the hallway, bare feet on the hardwood floor. The long corridor was painfully familiar just like his bedroom. He found himself staring at pictures of family. With that thought in mind, there was always that one missing person in his life. Her smile was bright, golden hair cascading down her shoulders and blue eyes looking alive.

 

There was something stirring in his stomach. Maybe dread...or perhaps hope? Lance walked a path that lead to that person. His footsteps sounded much louder than usual. It was like the weight of world was bearing down his shoulders. He was in front of the door now. A pastel pink name plate that read: **Delilah**.

 

He lifted his fist, knocking tentatively. Then they become much hurried. There was a sudden sense of import that settled in Lance that settled in his tightly gripped fist.

 

_Knock.. Knock.. Knock Knock Knock—_

 

After what feels like an everlasting minute, there’s a shuffling sound inside the room. There were familiar clicks as the door was being unlocked until it opened to reveal an little, angry blonde woman with a chip on her shoulder.  She was clad in pyjama shorts and a tank top that had been ridden up above her flat stomach. Delilah was always looking nothing less than astoundingly beautiful, except that faint crust of drool that traveled down her chin.

 

“What do you want, Forehead?” Delilah asked tiredly, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, “Do you know what time it is?”

 

“Delilah,” Lance said, eyes bulging out of his sockets. He raked his eyes up and down her perfectly normal looking body. He repeated the movement, gawking at her for an entire minute. His mouth opening and closing until his jaw hit the floor. Maybe a billion butterflies can fly into it and still have some room for more. “You’re alive.”

 

“Alive?” Delilah repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I be? That’s a morbid thought.”

 

“No, no, you died,” Lance said, feeling a sudden headache overcome his senses. It was a dull throbbing. “I s-saw your b-body and—”

 

“Did you have another bad dream?” Delilah said, worry suddenly laced in her tone. She put her hand down his shoulder and Lance flinched from the contact. He...could feel her.

 

“You’re...real?”

 

“Okay, are you drunk?” Delilah said with a disappointed sigh. “You know how I feel when you drink, Lance. You’re barely even legal enough to—”

 

“Where’s Mike?” Lance said, suddenly gripping her shoulders and repeated it firmly, “Where is he?”

 

“Who’s Mike?” Delilah asked quizzically.

 

“Your husband!” Lance yelled, shaking her. “Mike Zhang! The love of your life, remember?”

 

“Well, I don’t know a Mike Zhang, but there’s Mike Monroe in my class,” Delilah said, carefully pushing away his hands of her. “You should know that Xavier, my **_boyfriend_ ** , is the love of my life.”

 

“Xavier..?” Lance repeated, eyes widening an inch. “Delilah, what day is it?”

 

“Considering you just woke me up at God knows when,” Delilah said, putting a finger on her chin, “It’s Christmas.”

 

Something dropped in Lance’s stomach. “C-Christmas?”

 

“Yeah,” she grinned, “It’s Christmas, you know what that means?”

 

“Happy Birthday,” Lance breathed out, the air in his lungs coming out.

 

“Thank you!” she said, kissing his cheek. “Now, I have to sleep, so shoo.”

 

“Wait, Delilah!” Lance said, gripping the door before it was closed. “Xavier—”

 

“Yeah? What about him?” Delilah said, confusion written all over her face.

 

“Uh, He’s...He’s...” Lance started. _He’s going to die_. “He’s a good guy.”

 

“Aw, thanks!” Delilah said, “Better than Rolo, that’s for sure.”

 

“Yeah,” Lance said, and before she fully closed the door, he called her name. “Delilah.”

 

“Yeah, what is it, Little Brother?” Delilah said, yawning.

 

“I love you,” Lance said, hugging her. He can finally feel her after all these years. Small tears trickled down his cheeks, burying his face into her shoulder. He sobbed into her shoulder unceasingly, hands clutching at her shirt. She held him in silence, rocking him slowly as his tears soaked her.  “I love you so much, don’t ever forget that okay? I love you.”

 

Delilah froze, stiffening, but relaxed, letting out a soft giggle. She squeezed him tight. “I love you too, Little Brother.”

 

“Don’t go,” Lance cried out, squeezing her tight. “Don’t leave me, don’t _ever_ leave me, please.”

 

“I won’t ever leave you, Little Brother,” Delilah said, kissing his cheek. “You’ll always have me by your side.”

 

Lance took a shuddery breath, letting her go and noticing that she no longer wore her pyjamas, but instead a white summer dress. The butterfly pin right on the side of her hair.

 

“Okay?” Delilah said, laughing, “Don’t worry about it.”

 

“Don’t ever forget that I love you,” Lance said, crying once more.

 

“Just as long as you remember me,” Delilah said, chuckling softly. “Even if I’m far away, I’ll always be next to you.”

 

Lance laughed. “I’ll try to remember that.”

 

“Shh,” Delilah said, placing her finger on his lips. “He’s sleeping.”

 

“Who is?” Lance asked.

 

“My baby,” Delilah said, smiling over-brightly. “Ari.”

 

Lance dropped his jaw. Delilah shook her head, smile still in place, she grabbed his wrist, and then beckoned him to come inside. Lance took tentative steps towards the crib. Delilah sighed, placing the bundle in her arms, swaying to the side. She rocked him, cooing at him.

 

“I never got to hold him, you know?” Delilah said sadly, looking at the baby with loving eyes. “He’s so tiny.”

 

Although blinds were drawn, Lance could see her dark silhouette hovering by the crib. She was bathed by long horizontal strips of moonlight that escaped through the blinds, shimmering the way a pool does when lights hit it. Relaxed and longing, emotions shifting and constantly moving. Delilah had always had the brighter blue eyes, a mix of silvers and baby blues. Lance had a darker tone, bordering more on a  cobalt stone color. Ari had her eyes, not Lance’s.

 

Lance walked closer, clenching his fists to his sides. He watched the way Delilah held Ari close to her heart, saying soft whispers full of love.

 

“Hey, baby, it’s me,” Delilah whispered softly, kissing his forehead. “It’s Mama.”

 

Ari gurgled, grasping her finger.

 

Delilah grinned, looking up at Lance with tears in her eyes. “I love him so much, Lance.”

 

“He loves you too,” Lance said, voice cracking. My eyes drip with tears. His walls, the walls that held him up, made him strong, collapsed into a million pieces. Moment by moment, they fell. Salty drops fell his chin, drenching his shirt. “Lala, he loves you so much, but he never got the chance to meet you.”

 

“I know,” she said.

 

“He looks up to you so much,” Lance said, “He always ask so much about you.”

 

“I know.”

 

“He always wished to meet you someday.”

 

“I know,” Delilah said, kissing Ari again. “I know he does. He’s my son, so I know.”

 

“He’s your son,” Lance said, crying. “He’ll always be your son.”

 

“But...He’s your son too, Lance,” Delilah said, rocking Ari gently. “He’s always your son. You’re the love of his life.”

 

“And he’s mine,” Lance said, coming closer. “People say I gave him a better life, but he made mine worth living.”

 

“Thank you,” Delilah said softly, smiling at Lance,“For taking care of him.”

 

“It’s the best decision I’ve ever made,” Lance said with a chuckle, but was cut short when thunder boomed. Ari started crying.

 

Delilah grinned, sniffling, so happy. “I never heard him cry.”

 

“Delilah…”

 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Delilah said, cooing at the baby, kissing his cheeks. “Shh, Little one, shh, Mama is here, everything is okay.”

 

Delilah kissed him once more, humming a tune, Her hum had a happiness There was something carefree about the notes. She began to sing, _“Hold me close and hold me fast. This magic spell you cast. This is la vie en rose. When you kiss me heaven sighs and though I close my eyes, I see la vie en rose.”_

 

Lance started humming, joining in the song. His voice was smooth and clear and quiet yet powerful. Soothing, in a way. “ _When you press me to your heart, I'm in a world apart. A world where roses bloom and when you speak, angels sing from above.”_

 

 _“Everyday words seems to turn into love song. Give your heart and soul to me,”_ she continued to sing, rocking him in rhythm with the tune, _“And life will always be la vie en rose.”_

 

“He’s asleep,” Delilah said with a sigh, returning the child into the crib, but before that she left one last kiss on him. “I’m going to miss doing that.”

 

“I’m going to miss you,” Lance said, collapsing onto a chair.

 

“I’m going to miss you too,” Delilah said, standing before him. “You can stay here, you know.”

 

“I can?” Lance said, shocked. “Please don’t build up any hope for me. I’m broken enough.”

 

“Yep,” Delilah said, popping the ‘p’, “It’s your choice, Little Brother.”

 

“Well, I don’t know,” Lance said, pouting. “I don’t know how to make my choices anymore.”

 

“Hm,” Delilah said, cocking her head to the side, pondering. Her eyes brightened, baby blue turning electric. “I have an idea.”

 

“What is it?” Lance asked, peeking through his choppy bangs.

 

“Close your eyes for a bit.”

 

And so he did.

  


.

.

.

  


Lance found himself inside a roller coaster.

 

“Really?” Lance said, staring at Delilah unimpressively, “Disney World?”

 

“What,” Delilah said, laughing, “I love Disney World.”

 

“You threw up in this very same ride,” Lance said with a sigh, but still there was amusement in his voice.

 

“I never did get to enjoy it,” Delilah said, pouting.

 

 _Click_.

 

The cart suddenly dragged itself up with an effort. His hand instinctively tightened on the bar and his breath quickened in anticipation and fear.

 

Lance laughed nervously. “It’s pretty high up here,” he commented, eyeing the world down below.

 

“It is!” Delilah said, chuckling. “Try not to think much on it.”

 

He eyed the seatbelt. “Well, I’m trying not to. Why’d do you think this was a good idea?”

 

_Click._

 

“Remember that cheesy metaphor you told me in my wedding?” Delilah said, reminiscing at the nostalgia. “Well, this is the roller coaster of life.”

 

“R-roller coaster of life?” Lance said, repeating her words.

 

“Yeah, you’re in a limbo as of the moment,” Delilah said, explaining. “You’ve been through so much, Lance. Actually, you’re literally in the middle of the ride as of the moment. We’re at the peak. There’s still so much down below, looks scary doesn’t it?”

 

“Yeah,” Lance breathed out.

 

_Click. Click._

 

“I’m giving you a chance.” Delilah said, “My ride already ended, but yours hasn’t… well, not yet. That depends on you, Little Brother. I can stop the ride and we can come back to where we were, but this is your only chance, okay? We can’t continue the ride anymore once you make your decision to stop it.”

 

Delilah sighed, leaning down onto the hand rails. “I should’ve stayed with you a bit longer. One of the mistakes in my life was that I never noticed the signs.”

 

“The signs?”

 

“You were getting too depressed,” Delilah said, shaking her head sadly. “I couldn’t stop you from hurting. I kept wondering how I could help you, but now… I’m dead. Isn’t that weird?”

 

“Yeah, it’s weird,” Lance said, finding it strange to talk about death so freely. “There’s just thing we want to have, but can’t.”

 

“What do you want?” Delilah asked, curious like a cat.

 

“Happiness,” Lance said, tapping his finger on his pants. “That’s all I ever wanted.”

 

“You can have that,” Delilah said, grabbing his hand. “You can be happy, Lance.”

 

“How?”

 

“You just have to let the right people into your life,” Delilah said, “I know the nightmares won’t stop, the medications might not work, but you can be happy, Lance. Even if it seems so impossible, but you can.”

 

“I don’t even know anymore. Who cares if I even go through this?” Lance said with a pained groan. “Who cares if one more light goes out with this sky full of stars?” Gesturing wide at the large expanse of stars in the beautiful night sky, Lance could almost touch them from high up.

“A lot of people do,” Delilah said with a soft voice. “Your friends, family...Ari...Keith.”

 

“Delilah,” Lance said, biting his lip, “I’m miserable.”

 

“You should be,” Delilah said. “It’s not fair, but...nothing is fair, really.”

 

“Yeah,” Lance said.

 

“Ari doesn’t deserve to have Mike and I leave him,” Delilah said, closing her eyes, breathing out, “But he deserves you. You are the best person for him. I wouldn’t have anyone else.”

 

“Why me, Delilah?” Lance said, grimacing. Almost sounding like a whiny teenager.

 

“Don’t think like that,” Delilah scolded and then wiped the stray tear trailing down his cheek. “It’s because...I love you. That’s is to put it simply.”

 

“Why does that matter?” Lance said, almost sound angry.

 

“Lance, Ari is my child. I would want the world for him, you know that. I was not the given the choice to keep him and that… that broke me, but if I was given the choice to give him to you or have him with me. I would choose you. I will always choose **_you_ **.”

 

Lance bursted in tears. “You...you gave me a purpose.”

 

“I would hope so,” Delilah said, kissing his cheek. “I like to think you made yourself a purpose.”

 

“He’s given me so much,” Lance said, gripping the rails tighter. “He’s made my life brighter. I...I love my job. I have friends. I have a family, but I don’t have you.”

 

“No, you’re wrong,” Delilah said and then placed her hand on his heart. “You will always have me in here. Your heart.”

 

“Cheesy,” Lance said, chuckling.

 

Delilah whacked the back of his head.

 

“Yeah,” Lance said, wincing. “That definitely felt real.”

 

_Click. Click. Click. Click._

 

“You ready?” Delilah said, “What’s your choice?”

 

Lance took a breath, “Okay, let’s do it.”

 

And then Delilah grinned. She snapped her fingers.

 

And so they dropped.

  


.

.

.

  


Lance opened his eyes and found himself in a long corridor. He no longer wore his pyjamas, but his usual casual wear. Delilah was laughing right next to him, covering her mouth.

 

“Oh my God, you screamed so loud!” Delilah said, punching his shoulder lightly.

 

“Hey!” Lance said, pinching her cheek. Delilah slapped it away. “Where am I?”

 

“We’re in Ari’s school!” Delilah said, nodding proudly. “I was available to put us here. I wanted to see my baby perform! Oh, gosh! I’m so proud!”

 

“Hey, guys!”

 

Lance turned around to find Mike waving at them exuberantly. His bright grin was blinding to Lance because at this point he was going to cry again.

 

“Mike!” Lance said, running towards his brother-in-law. He hugged him tightly, lifting him high up. “You’re here!”

 

Mike was laughing, patting his shoulder, “Alright, alright, put me down!”

 

“I...I just can’t even!” Lance said, whipping his head to Delilah. “You should have told me he was coming here too!”

 

Delilah giggled and then went up to Mike, kissing him on the lips swiftly. “Hey, nice to see you again.”

 

“Same,” Mike said, kissing her once again.

 

Lance would have been totally grossed out, but he was so happy to see his family again. Watching them playing with each other, casting each other loving looks, and just… the familiarity of it all  brought Lance so much joy, more than he can ever comprehend.

 

“Okay, stop!” Delilah said with a laugh, pushing Mike’s face and kisses away from her. “We have a show to watch.”

 

“Alright,” Mike said, putting one last kiss on her nose. He then gestured to Lance. “Come inside. He’s just about to start.”

 

Lance went through the throngs of people, his eyes widened to find his friends and family right in front of him. He was still startled when a random person had just phased right through him as if he was just made out of air. He had noticed there was a blue glow surrounding him, but that wasn’t what held his attention: It was the image of Keith hugging Ari tightly.

 

“You can do it,” Keith whispered to the small boy.

 

Ari nodded nervously, gripping the straps of his instrument. The butterfly pattern shined brightly under the sunlight, shimmering like diamonds.

 

“Next up we have Ari!” Plaxum said, smiling brightly as ever, coaxing the boy to come up in the front.

 

Ari stiffly stood in front of them all, looking like a deer in the headlights. He was gripping the neck of the ukulele with all his might. Lance could see the sweat starting to plaster the hair on his forehead.

 

Ari took a deep a breath, and then said, “Hi...I’m Ari McClain-Zhang.”

 

He looked towards Keith and Keith just nodded in approval.

 

“In Hawaiian, the word ʻohana begins with an ʻokina, indicating a glottal stop. The root word ʻohā refers to the root or corm of the kalo, or taro plant, which is the staple ‘staff of life’ in Hawaii, which Kanaka Maoli consider to be their cosmological ancestor,” Ari said quickly, sounding almost like gibberish. “I’m going to sing a song. The Monarch of Hawaii, Queen Lili`uokalani, wrote it in memory of a farewell embrace to her friend during a riding trip when Hawaii was an independent country. After she was imprisoned and Hawaii was annexed by the United States, the song took over as dirge between she and her kingdom.”

 

Someone in the back of class had said, “Just get on with it!”

 

That person had face a million scathing glares.

 

“Uhm, and...I just wanted to say...that I’m an orphan. I don’t have parents. They died when I was born, but… I have a family. I have a ‘Ohana’. It’s really big. I have so many aunts, cousins, uncles… I just have so much people in my life, and I’m so thankful for them to be here with me. My Papa is the most special person I have in my life...ever. He’s the strongest person I know. He may not seem much, but you don’t know him. He’s my Ohana, and he will always be my Ohana...and Ohana means family, if you haven’t caught on, and family means… nobody gets left behind.”

 

“Or forgotten!” the class yelled back.

 

Ari laughed, sniffling. “Yeah! Or forgotten!”

 

Ari started playing the song, strumming the chords.

 

 _“Proudly swept the rain cloud by the cliffs, as on it glided through the trees. Still following ever the liko. The Ahihi lehua of the vale,”_ Ari sang, even through his tears. _“A-Aloha-oe, aloha-oe, ikeona ona noho ikanipo, one fond embrace ahoea ea. Until we meet again, until we meet again—”_

 

Ari then stopped, pausing, and took a huge breath. “I–I...can’t say it.”

 

He then left the room in a rush, slamming the door in its wake.

 

Lance’s heart dropped into his stomach, he was about to call his name out, but was beaten to it by the familiar voice.

 

“Ari!” Keith had yelled, running after the boy.

 

Lance followed him, passing through the wall and finding the Keith crouched on the floor to meet Ari’s eyes.

 

“Mami, I can’t say it,” Ari cried, tears spilling out like a waterfall.

 

“Say what?” Keith asked, wiping the tears away. “What can’t you say?”

 

“I can’t s-s-say g-g-goodbye,” Ari stuttered through his tears. “I’m not ready. I-I c-can’t say go-goodbye to P-Papa yet.”

 

Lance’s mouth dropped. The realization hitting him like a truck. “I’m… dead?”

 

“Ari, you don’t have to, okay?” Keith said, consoling the young boy. “You don’t have to say goodbye.”

 

“But I have to!” Ari said, wrapping his arms around Keith. “Mami, I’m going to lose him, he’s gonna be gone. I can’t handle that!”

 

“You’re not going to lose him,” Keith said resolutely, “He’s going to be with you always, he will always find a way. He’s that stubborn of a guy.”

 

“A-Ari...Ari! Keith! Keith!” Lance yelled, running towards them, but just as expected, he had phased right through them. “No!”

 

“Delilah!” Lance called out, but no one came running out, “Mike!?”

 

Lance stood up, walking back into the room, but finding both of them gone.

 

“I..I have to finish my piece,” Ari said, wiping his tears. “I have to.”

 

“No one is forcing you to, Ari,” Keith said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

 

“But I want to,” Ari said, “For Papa.”

 

“Okay,” Keith said, “I’ll be there for you. No matter what.”

 

Ari hugged Keith one last time and then moved literally pass through Lance.

 

Keith was left in the hallway, staring at nothing.

 

“Keith, am I dead?” Lance asked. “Please, tell me I’m not dead.”

 

Keith closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Lance.”

 

Lance heart skipped a beat.

 

“Yeah, what is it?” Lance said, knowing Keith couldn’t hear him.

 

“If you...if you can see me or hear me right now, I just want to say,” Keith took a deep breath. “I love you.”

 

Lance’s voice hitched.

 

“I loved you ever since I met you, I guess. You were annoying as fuck, but you still kept talking to me even if I was such hard-ass back then.”

 

“You still are,” Lance said with broken laugh.

 

“I love you so much, you were... _are_ the love of my life,” Keith said, gripping his fists together. “You told me this once and I wanted to say it too. You are the love of my life. Everything I have and everything I am is yours.”

 

Lance came close to Keith, pressing a ghost of a kiss on his lips and then smiled, “ _Forever_.”

 

Lance heard the familiar chords from the classroom, he turned to find Ari playing once again. The afternoon sun pouring out from the blinds, casting an ethereal glow around him. He looked like an angel with the natural halo forming around his head.

 

_“Hold me close and hold me fast. This magic spell you cast. This is la vie en rose. When you kiss me heaven sighs and though I close my eyes, I see la vie en rose.”_

 

Lance watched a beautiful blue butterfly coming fluttering through window.

 

“ _When you press me to your heart, I'm in a world apart. A world where roses bloom and when you speak, angels sing from above.”_

 

It landed on Ari’s shoulder. Lance almost saw a hand forming around it, but it vanished just as the butterfly flew away.

 

_“Everyday words seems to turn into love song. Give your heart and soul to me,”_

 

It flew closer to Lance.

  

Closer _._

 

 

**“and life”**

 

Closer.

 

**_be la vie en_ **

  


 

Closer .

 

 

**will always**

Closer.

**be la vie en**

                                                                                                                                               closer

 

**rose.”**

                                                     

  
  
  


          BEEP

  
  
  


                                                               BEEP

  
  
  
  


_"Delilah."_

_"Yeah?"_

_"I'm...not...I'm not going to remember any of this, will I?"_

_"..."_

_"Lala?"_

_"No, you won't."_

_"...Ah, okay."_

_"Are you sad? If you are, I'm sorry."_

_"No...You've given me so much time to think of my life...I'm ready."_

_"Oh...Hey, it's raining."_

_"Ah, it is. I love it."_

                                                                                                       BEEP

_"Pluviophile."_

_"What? Bless you?"_

_"No, silly, it means lover of rain. Someone who finds joy and peace of mind in the rain."_

_"Ah, Did Mike tell you that?"_

_"Hey, I can be smart too...also yes."_

_Lance laughed. "Can I have one more hug?"_

_"You don't have to ask."_

                                                                                                                                               BEEP

  
  
  
  
  


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               BEEP

  
  
  
  
  
  


And Lance woke up.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my readers....
> 
> Thank you for reading this roller coaster of a ride story. I guess Its RIDE OR DIE TIME. I've been wondering how i could have ended this story. Honestly, Im so proud of myself. This story has been going on in the span of what??? 3 months??? Thank you so much for reading this story. I crie every tiem i read such an amazing comment. They really did help me out with my life and my depression. This story is so precious to me. If you want to go shit on it, then fine, be my guest! But I will tell you, this story saved me and my life from so much pain. This was my way of making my voice heard, to let people know who I am and what this story is. It's a graphic depiction of my own life. It's raw emotion. :'D It's ME. 
> 
> The reason why I keep using this song was that it is MY FAVORITE SONG. You see, my life has always been me and handling my grief all on my own. To know people have cried over this is such a big compliment and praise is just... wow. I never thought I would have gone this far. This story has brought so much joy to me. So much tears. Life can really hand you so much bullshit, but sometimes there's beauty in it. It's just so undiscovered, if you know what I mean??? (not a sex innuendo jesus christ) 
> 
> My dear readers, my honey, my rocks, you have no idea just how important you are to me... You basically saved me from so much sadness and depression. Im not gonna lie, there were times where i just wanted to quit, to quit writing even, but your comments have helped me so much with the pain of being... Me. I'm just a nobody... so I wrote a story to have a voice. 
> 
> There's going to be an epilogue, so don't worry. :D
> 
> Also, I love you! (´∀｀)♡ 
> 
> PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT AND SOME KUDOS!
> 
> If you want to talk to me here's my discord tag: Dead kid walking#6982 (´∀｀)♡


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This life is what you make it. No matter what, you're going to mess up sometimes, it's a universal truth. But the good part is you get to decide how you're going to mess it up. Girls will be your friends - they'll act like it anyway. But just remember, some come, some go. The ones that stay with you through everything - they're your true best friends. Don't let go of them. Also remember, sisters make the best friends in the world. As for lovers, well, they'll come and go too. And baby, I hate to say it, most of them - actually pretty much all of them are going to break your heart, but you can't give up because if you give up, you'll never find your soulmate. You'll never find that half who makes you whole and that goes for everything. Just because you fail once, doesn't mean you're gonna fail at everything. Keep trying, hold on, and always, always, always believe in yourself, because if you don't, then who will, sweetie? So keep your head high, keep your chin up, and most importantly, keep smiling, because life's a beautiful thing and there's so much to smile about.” 
> 
> ― Marilyn Monroe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it guys.  
> I hoped you enjoyed this as much as I wrote this!
> 
> I'm sorry this too so long
> 
> WARNING: SOME M-RATED SHIT IN THE END. XD
> 
> songs I listened to:
> 
> Cold War Kids - First  
> Little Talks - Monsters and Men  
> Slow Dance With You - Babbeo Baggins  
> Gone Gone Gone - Phil Phillips

What exactly was life?

 

Lance was no existentialist, but what exactly did it actually mean? Life was… complicated, yes, that much could be said. No one really said it was going to be easy. No one said it was going to be hard too because for fuck’s sake, Lance had to be on his own for a while. That was before Ari was born, when he was so surrounded by people yet still felt so alone. Even the living embodiment of sunshine who took form in the petite body of his sister Delilah could see it. She was the only person who could truly see what Lance was, but now… she was gone. She was the one who taught him to be who he really wanted to be, not what the world wanted. Good or Bad.

 

Nothing was ever going to change that.

 

Lance stood in front of the grave, reading the name over and over again. It's the same. Doesn't change. There's flowers grasped in one hand. Lilies were Delilah's favourite. He closed his eyes, taking in the scent. It's familiar like her. The scent of clean bedsheets and a white summer dress.  

 

Every morning when Lance woke up, he would tell himself that. There was a chance that day could be different. A chance to change. A chance to become better even if you knew it was one of those bad days. Your past was the past. Leave it there. Get on with life because that was how life was; to move on from regrets, mistakes, heartbreak, and learn to get new pieces… even if those shards were glass. In some shitty metaphor, you just had to be your own tape and super glue.

 

Delilah was the past, but she left pieces of her in everyone. So she was never truly gone.

 

Ari… Ari was his future, his happily ever after. His greatest choice. His greatest risk of achieving full fledged happiness.

 

Then Lance came home, took a shower, washed off the day. While drinking a glass of water, he turned off the lights. Lying down and closing his eyes, you could feel the silence, hearing the thump thumps of his chest like a drum. Like every single heartbeat was a tick in a time bomb until you explode into cosmic dust. Notice your heart. Notice the life in them. You made it. You made it to another day. You can do it again. And again. And again.

 

You’re doing great, sweetie. You can do it!

 

Lance learned what it means to live life. He needn’t not to forget the past and what was gone, but appreciate what still remained and looked forward for the future.

 

And like Hunk always said, probably got it from his motivational Pinterest, “Hope. Hold On, Pain Ends.”

 

And so we come back.

 

…

 

You could say Lance led a pretty simple life. He was comfortable and secure. He had an amazing job that could accommodate his day-to-day expenses. He had earned his degree and leased a decent apartment. He learned to do his taxes. He was a father.

He had his fair share of declined propositions and bad break-ups, mishandled tantrums, and punches to the face, but balanced it  out with his determination and confidence.

He had two awesome best friends, a tech-savvy genius computer programmer and a big cuddly teddy-bear aerospace engineering baker who could make a mean gingersnap cookie with an equally as loving and sweet girlfriend. He had a child genius son who could grow up to be better than the world. He… had someone in his heart, someone he could see himself spending the rest of his life with.

He has the biggest and best kind of family.

 

Mama was the strongest person he knew, balancing home life with seven kids, ruling over them with an iron sandal. Never underestimate a five foot one Cuban woman.

 

Dad was the bravest. He used to pin a badge to his chest, gun strapped to his hip, always out to save people, to risk his own life for the sake others… even if he there was a chance he would never come back to see his own family.

 

Danny was the most selfless person. He had struggled when life snuck up to him too fast, but managed it. He married an equally as amazing Camila. Lance always thought the saying “born to be a father” was a dumb saying, but when he looked at Danny with his clenched jaw that was stamped with the word “Provider”, he can definitely take back what he said.

 

Nessie wasn’t a scary Spanish-curse word spewing bitch, she was a blushing and smiling (still scary) mother. She puts the people she cared about first and foremost, Dropping anything that stood her way from reaching them. Despite her strong facade, she was truly a vulnerable person.

 

Margot and Coco were not a single package. They had their own individualistic traits that truly defines them as two separate entities. Margot was a hardworking doctor-to-be, ready to save lives like Dad. And then there’s Coco. Despite his humor and class-clown attitude, he had a passion for teaching people a lesson (just like what Lance gave him) and got his own little class of small children—building better people for the future.

 

Dee… Dee was their own person. They didn’t need anyone to tell him otherwise. They were a wandering spirit, ready to capture the world behind their camera lenses.

 

Mike wasn’t an awkward and stumbling boy. He was a kind person with a heart purer than anyone he knew. He knew how to make the right choices and help people with their own.

 

…

 

Delilah.

 

There was so much Delilah that no one could ever describe. Not even a simile or a metaphor could truly compare who she was. She was sunshine. Her smile blinding, everlasting, and ...well, full of Vitamin D—elilah.

 

Yeah, Lance was working on it. Shush.

 

Delilah was a force to be reckoned. She wasn’t a sarcastic hot-headed woman, but a vision of love. She was a bright yellow sponge, absorbing the great in the world, just oozing with the positivity. She was just there with an eternal smile that could calm the storms in people.

 

Pidge is still ever so honey and sassy person they were, but what no one knew was that they had a soft spot to be unlocked which was greater than any XBOX achievement.

 

Hunk was still the pure cinnamon roll, but no one knew how headstrong and caring man he truly was.

 

Life came with new people, new pieces to stitch its way to Lance’s heart. It was like fixing broken bones, sometimes they came in the most painful time, but it was all worth it

 

They were the type of people who would be there for you no matter what.

Lance had a pretty simple life. Sure, he was still… figuring out himself, but what else was new?

 

Lance knew he wasn’t the same guy he was before either. He was a love-sick desperado, wanting to settle down, to find the one true love of his life, but now… he just wanted to take the world bit by bit, take whatever life threw him as it comes his way like a speeding bus and let his future unfold.

Life went on, as if time never passed at all. Life was measured by memories, cherished moments, and seasons.

 

"Papa, are you ready to go now?" Ari asked, holding his hand. He's so precious. "We can wait for you."

 

Lance smiled, wiping his eyes. He crouched down, placing the lilies on the ground. He hugged Ari, giving him a kiss on his head. It's the closest thing to having some sort of contact with Delilah. 

 

"Okay, I'm good," Lance said, tucking a stray strand of black hair behind Ari's ears. His eyes sparkle like clear water. "It's time to go."

 

"We can meet Mama next time," Ari said. "We'll see her again, so don't be so sad. Okay, Papa?"

 

"Yeah, you're right."

 

In short, Lance led a simple life.

 

…

 

LOL, Lance was kidding. He was _no way_ living a simple life.

 

Lance led life like a tsunami, waves crashing and problems tidal-waving his way into life.

 

.

.

.

 

Lance kept fiddling with his tie, adjusting it with clumsy fingers. It was blue with gold trimming, his mother says it matched his eyes, but Lance begged to differ. It was some sort of fancy noose tied around his neck. He was wearing a neatly pressed and ironed suit. His shoes polished enough to see his own reflection. Hair slicked back to prevent his bangs from framing his face. Lance felt stuffy in his suit, but goddamn, he was looking hot in it, both in a figurative and literal sense. Seriously, whose idea was it to have a wedding on the beach in the middle of the hottest weather in the entire universe?

 

It was Lance. He thought it was a good idea to have a wedding on the beach.

 

Hunk, the projectile vomiting cinnamon roll, was too busy looking like he was going faint to worry about the heat.

 

“Why are you even nervous?” Pidge asked, fixing their own bow tie. “I thought you wanted this.”

 

“I do!” Hunk says, and then rambled onto his vows, but quickly stopped himself. “I do want this. I’m just nervous, that’s all.”

 

“Pre-wedding jitters is what he means,” Lance said, ruffling his own hair. Oh Hot Damn, did Lance look good in a suit.

 

“Y’all are just overdramatic,” Pidge said.

 

“Says the person who plans to be single all their life,” Lance said.

 

“Oh shut it, McClain,” Pidge complained, rolling their eyes.

 

“Oh my God,” Hunk groaned, “I’m going to get married. It’s happening, guys.”

 

“You’re… you’re not having second thoughts are you?” Lance asked hesitantly, fearing for the answer.

 

“No, no of course not,” Hunk muttered, glancing at his suited up body and the flower crown on his head, which was again Lance’s idea. “I’m happy. So happy. It’s a different kind of happy feeling, you know? It feels new and tiny bit of intimidating. I’ve… felt a different kind of happy with Shay—and now… we’re going to be with each other forever.”

 

“That does sound intimidating,” Lance admitted breathily, then placing his hands on Hunk’s shoulders, squeezed them reassuringly. “You can do this, buddy.”

 

“That’s good, right?” Pidge said, standing up from their chair, joining them at looking at their own reflections on the mirror.

 

“Yeah,” Hunk said with a smile, “It’s good.”

 

.

.

.

 

For once, Lance wasn’t up for any drinking.

 

Again, he was kidding.

 

Lance got so fucking smashed.

 

The reception was indeed… something else. First of all, Hunk managed to trip over to the wedding cake—his moms baked it, God bless their delicious cake baking skills—and ended face first onto the wedding topper. Shay obviously laughed, but ended smashing her own face into the cake. It was hilarious.

 

And Plaxum was there with her new boyfriend. She already warned Lance that no name jokes were allowed under any circumstances because she shared his name to her new friends: Blump Fump.

 

Shay snorted. 

Pidge didn't look even fazed.

Hunk tried to fight off the grin on his face.

Keith bit his tongue.

But Lance? Lance... he laughed. 

"Plax," Lance tried to say from his laughter. "Please tell me loves his name."

Plax had waved him off with a deadpan.

So now, at the reception that Shay and Hunk are hosting, Lance is forced to keep a straight face as he stands with Plax, talking to her boyfriend. He's a little taller than her, and super thin, with blue and green hair shaped like a fish bowl. He has a circular lenses. He's got slightly crooked teeth that are evident when he smiles, and he's got a bit of a strange accent when he speaks.

But Lance wouldn't be forced to bite back a laugh for any of that. Oh, no, he's always been rather accepting of people's qualities. It's just the  _name_  that gets to him every time he sees Blump Fump; he can't help but laugh. 

So Lance had excused himself to the get some white wine and ... well, whine about something.

Pidge was no better than Lance, they got themselves hammered in a way that when they started making their toast, they started rambling about coding metaphors to Hunk’s life, which surprisingly made Hunk cry a river. “Fuckin’ love you, Hunk?”

 

And when the dancing began, Lance was on fire.

 

And by that he means, he literally danced like there were fire ants in his pants. He had his hands gripping on Ari’s, spinning him around.

 

And then that fucking song started playing.

 

Lance looked at Ari with a gaping mouth. Ari gave him a smirk, shrugging his small shoulders.

 

 _“Hold me close and hold me fast. This magic spell you cast. This is la vie en rose,”_ Keith sings, fingers plucking the guitar skillfully. The piano plays the symphony beautifully, the pianist giving Lance a wink.

 

“Oh my Gooooood,” Lance whined, burying his face into his hands, his grin was poorly hidden, “I knew it.”

 

“Knew what?” Ari asked.

 

“There was a time in the balcony, when I felt alone,” Lance explained, swaying with the rhythm, keeping eye contact with Keith. “It was four am, and I was crying like a wee babe. Someone started singing, and I...I remembered smiling when I heard it. It was like the pain slowly turned into a love song… that was around the time I knew I was screwed.”

 

“Screwed?” Ari repeated.

 

“I knew I was in love,” Lance said with a blush. “Maybe I hadn’t realized it then, but I now know what it felt.”

 

“ _When you kiss me, Heaven sighs and though I close my eyes,_ ” Keith sung, small smile on his face. _“I see la vie en rose._ ”

 

Lance closed his eyes, listening to the song.

 

 _“And when you speak, angels sing from above,_ ” Keith sung. “ _Everyday words seem to turn into love songs.”_

 

Lance let go off the grin he had been fighting off, which in return made Keith grin, causing him to fumble over his words a bit.

 

 _“Give your heart and soul to me and life will always be,”_ Keith sang, _“La vie en rose”_

 

“3!”

 

“2!”

 

“1!”

 

Lance saw a bouquet coming right towards him, and then hitting him square on the face.

 

He spluttered, spitting out rose petals out of his mouth. The bouquet had found its way in his hands. His mouth opened once again, gaping like an abyss, ready to take one million butterflies and have some room for more in his stomach. He glanced at Keith on stage who was blushing furiously, but a small smile on his face is blooming. It’s hesitant, but it’s there. It’s beautiful. They’re not young adults anymore, fresh out of college, not sure what the world was going to bring.

 

Keith jumped down the stage, guitar slinging onto his back, the grin now on his face with sharp canines, lip ring gone, and a fading scar. It’s so entirely Keith that Lance’s heart literally just palpitates just looking at it. There was a dark maroon tie around his neck and Lance was resisting the urge to tug it closer to him, bringing him into a orbit like the sun around the moon. There was just something about Keith that made Lance attracted to him even after all these years.

 

Delilah used to say never regret things that made you smile and maybe that’s what she meant.

 

“Hey,” he said, biting his lip. “Nice flowers.”

 

“Thanks,” Lance said, beaming.

 

“Bye,” Ari said, walking off, leaving them alone under twinkling stars and bright fairy lights.

 

“That boy,” Lance joked, rolling his eyes. “You know, I think we started better than we did before.”

 

“What do you mean?” Keith asked.

 

“Meeting again,” Lance said. “You know, it’s… great. I know I did say I hated you, but I don’t. I just resented you for the longest time, and… you were right about leaving. That span when you weren’t around gave me a lot of time to think. Gave me the realization that I could stand by my own without anyone. We couldn’t communicate and that was impossible to build anything from that, but now… I don’t hear static anymore. I can understand you, get me?”

 

“I do,” Keith said, fiddling with his tie. “There were times I regretted my decision, but I wasn’t a good person back then. I don’t if I am now, but I know I’m better. More in control.”

 

“You are a good person, Keith,” Lance said. “Even back then, you just weren’t ready to be with someone.”

 

“I think you’re wrong about that,” Keith said, grabbing his hand. “I think I needed you to help me with my own realizations. In that process, I just ended breaking your heart.”

 

“I broke yours too,” Lance said.

 

“And that’s okay,” Keith replied, placing the hand on to his chest. Lance could hear the thump thump of his heart, feeling the ticking bomb beneath his ribs. Much to Lance’s surprise, Keith started legitimately crying. Holy shit.

 

“Aw fuck,” Keith mumbled, trying to wipe the tears away. “I wasn’t supposed to cry.”

 

“You don’t have to stop crying,” Lance said, smiling a bit. “It doesn’t really affect me. You saw me cry like a baby all the time.”

 

“No, that’s not it,” Keith said, sniffling. “You’ve been through so much, you deserve to cry. I...don’t know why I’m crying. You’re a lot stronger than me. Iron mask and all.”

 

“I think you need to have an avocado mask,” Lance said, chuckling. He wipes away the stray tear running down Keith’s cheek.

 

Keith hugged him, in the most gently kind of Keith way because he was anything but gentle. Keith was a house fire, flames engulfing him in a warmth that seems too painful sometimes, but now it’s just a good warmth that spreads through his fingertips down to his toes.

 

Lance hugged him for the longest time. It was weird. Both of them were so different, personalities clashing, but somehow still match up. Lance wasn’t just some manic goofball. Keith wasn’t a melancholic emo guy. They did not need to fix each other. They didn’t need to save each other. They just helped each other when they can. Lance will walk in the dusk where the moon rising and far away stars twinkle. Keith will walk during dawn, where sun was blazing beyond the horizon.

 

When the day meets the night, great things happen. When night meets day, life happens.

 

.

.

.

 

“And that kids is how I met your Mami,” Lance finishes, smiling at the memory and gazing at the two children in front of him, expectant. However, Leo just stares at him, chin propped on a fist, not excited at all. Laura groans loudly, stretching her arms.

 

“Finally! I’m like a million years old,” Laura whines, “Why was it so long, oh my goooooosh.”

 

Leo makes an audible yawn. “I’m really sleepy now.”

 

“That’s the point,” Lance says, defending himself. “A bedtime story is for bedtime.”

 

“IT WAS SO LONG!” Leo cries.

 

"Wait, Papa, didn’t you meet mami already before that?" Laura pipes, raising an eyebrow.

 

"Well this the story how I lost your mami and how I found him again,” Lance explains, patting their heads condescendingly. “Because, meeting someone isn't just a simple one-time thing! There's gotta be a buildup of character. You guys had to hear everything I went through—and everything my friends went through, too, because it's all gotta clue you in about life—to understand how I was able to mature to love Mami and be ready for a serious relationship—"

 

A soft knock sounds on the bedroom door.

 

Lance glances away from his kids, and immediately, his eyes soften at the sight of his husband leaning against the doorframe. "Keith? I didn't even hear you come in!”

 

“Mami!” the kids yell.

 

Keith shrugs, smiling. “Is your papa telling you another boring story?"

 

“You’re here!” screeches Laura.

 

"WHAT? Boring, the hell you talking about, Mullet?" Lance exclaims.

 

"Are you staying, Mami?" Laura says with a grin, "You won't go to work tomorrow right?"

 

"Yeah, I'm staying, Lala," keith says with a smile. "Which means you won’t listen to your papa's stories tomorrow."

 

"So you're going to sing for us tomorrow?" Leo asks.

 

"Don't I always?" Keith asks. “Jeez, was that how boring your story was Lance?"

 

"No," Lance says.

 

" _Yes_ ," both of his children counter.

 

Keith hums his disapproval. "He never learns," he says with a sigh, and Laura giggles, reaching out for a hug.

 

“So you’re going to stay?” Leo says.

 

“Of course I am,” Keith says.

 

Laura starts to bounce on her bed excitedly, remembering the usual bedtime routine. "Mami, can you sing right now? Pleaaaaaase?" she begs.

 

 

“My story sucked that much!?” Lance huffs, pretending to be hurt. "Well if you guys hated it..."

 

"No, I loved it, Papa!" Laura assures him.

 

Leo even smiles a little. "I liked it too," he admits a little reluctantly.

 

Keith smiles at Lance, reaching over and taking his hand. "Okay, kids, Lance kept you up long enough. I'll sing to you two if you promise to sleep right afterwards."

 

"We will! We will!" Leo promises.

 

Lance lets go of his husband’s hand and goes to lean against the doorframe, taking the usual spot he does whenever Keith sings. It amazes him, as usual, that even after all these years, he can still find himself so much in love with him.

 

Sure, it hasn't been easy. Lance remembers how unsure he was after the loss of Delilah, and how hard it was for him to love again.

 

Everything he's gone through has been worth it. His and Keith’s disastrous wedding during which Pidge, drunk, had given an unflattering toast of how Keith could do way better than Lance, getting Leo and Laura, and everything after. Each child's first day of school, every sick day, each stolen kiss before work, every day of the life Lance has...it's all worth it.

 

 _"Hold me close and hold me fast. The magic spell you cast. This is La Vie En Rose."_ Keith begins, voice soft and melodic. _“When you kiss me heaven sighs and though I close my eyes. I see La Vie En Rose”_

 

Lance closes his eyes, just as he did the first time he heard the song. Even after hearing this song every night when Delilah used to sing, when Keith puts the kids to bed, he still remembers the way he sang it outside the fire escape.

 

_“When you press me to your heart. I'm in a world apart. A world where roses bloom_

 

_And when you speak...angels sing from above. Everyday words seem...to turn into love songs_

 

 _Give your heart and soul to me and life will always be. La Vie En Rose,_ ” finishes Keith softly, and he smiles as he sees that Laura’s already drifted off and Leo is nearly asleep as well.

 

When the door is closed and they're alone, Keith immediately leans against his husband's chest, wrapping his arms around his torso. He recuperates the hug, smiling against the top of his head.

 

"I'm glad I was able to get home," Keith says with a sigh. "I don't know how I would've survived staying away from you or the kids.”

 

Lance rubs comforting circles on his back. "Believe me, I would've been the one who wouldn't survive without you here today," he says.

 

Keith chuckles. "What story did you tell them, anyway?"

 

"Only the greatest story in existence—how I met you...again!” Lance says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “I did paint a bad image of you though…”

 

Lance grins, "Maybe I should tell them the story of how I started _loving_ you instead..."

 

Keith groans.  "Oh no, don't start again..."

 

"Yes, they'll love the story! It'll be powerful. It'll be romantic. It will make them see how important getting to love another person is...and make them cherish it." Lance taps his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, maybe I'll write this one down this time...I had some trouble censoring the last version..."

 

Keith can't help it—he breaks into a smile. “You are hopeless."

 

"Keith, you are a killjoy."

 

" _Your_ killjoy," he can't help but rather smugly point out.

 

"Yes, my killjoy who also loves me so much he'll help me write out our love story, right?" Lance asks, and before Keith can even protest or flat out say no, he's twirling him around to no music, the way they used to dance when they were young and newly in love, all bare feet and giggles and whispers.

 

Suddenly the sound of door opens, and a bullet-fast Russian is heard. 

 

"Есть, сэр. Так точно."  ** _Yes, sir. Got it_**

 

Lance and Keith glanced at each other.

 

"Держите нас в курсе любых механических или электронных проблем. Кстати, зонд, который мы отправляем, называется Ирида, в честь греческой богини, которая путешествовала по небесам со скоростью ветра. Она также богиня радуги." **K _eep us posted on any mechanical or electronic problems. By the way, the name of the probe we’re sending is Iris. Named after the Greek goddess who traveled the heavens with the speed of wind. She’s also the goddess of rainbows._**

 

"Что еще мне делать со своим свободным временем? Большую его часть я провожу, просиживая задницу, глядя на мемасы. Точно так же, как и ты, так что нечего меня осуждать, мистер командующий!" **What else do I with my free time? I spend a lot of it sitting around on my lazy ass looking at memes. But also do you, so don't judge, mr commander!**

 

"Что? Ты серьезно? Я облажался. Это моё взвешенное мнение. Облажался! Возвращайся к тестированию и посмотри, сможем ли мы найти летчиков-испытателей, готовых проверить новый аппарат."  ** _What? Are you serious? I’m pretty much fucked. That’s my considered opinion. Fucked! Go back to testing and see if we have any fighter pilots ready to test pilot the new craft._**

 

“Okay, gross,” Ari says, popping out from the corner, 6 feet worth of limbs strides into the hallway. He has the phone on one hand, the other with a messenger bag filled with papers. He's wearing the Galaxy Garrison officer uniform. Grey shirt and black boots and all. He's adorning a disgusted look on his face. Charming. Lance is so proud. He's looks like Mike's clone... except with Delilah's eyes. He even has the similar looking glasses.

 

“Ari!” Lance exclaims, rushing towards his son, giving him a bear hug. He’s so much taller than Lance now, it’s crazy. “How’s university?”

 

“Papa, I’m eighteen,” Ari rolls eyes, “I’m not going to school anymore remember? I graduated last week.”

 

“Oh right, damn, old habits die hard,” Lance says, rubbing his widow’s peak. “Fuckin’ hell.”

 

“On your way to space program, right?” Keith says, punching his arm. It’s hilarious. He looks like a midget compared to Ari.

 

“Yep, Garrison accepted me, so I’m training,” Ari says proudly. “I’m going to be youngest officer, so it’s a bit intimidating.”

 

“That’s my boy,” Lance says proudly, thumping Ari’s chest.

 

“Yeah,” Keith says, slinging an arm around Ari’s shoulders, bringing him to his level. Keith’s so fucking strong, it’s incredible. “Our boy.”

 

.

.

.

 

_There’s strawberries in the freezer. Lance likes to keep them there. Keith likes to smash them with a hammer. He’s so violent. Lance loves it. Everything there is like fringed with ice, mushing together in one blocky cube. They like to make strawberry shortcake together. The apartment is like a refrigerator, cramped and cold, but Keith’s body is against his own. Keith is hot, both figuratively and literally. Bare chest gliding against each other, slick with sweat. They were dancing with bare feet, cream on faces, and now they’re on the couch making out._

 

_“Hang on there, Mullet,” Lance says with a breathy whisper against Keith’s ear. Lance plays a song, it’s one of Keith’s. He’s so in love with his voice. It’s not deep or anything velvety like that. It’s sort of a hoarse kind of voice. The kind you know who had been through so much. Kinda like a scratchy record._

 

_There’s whip cream on Keith’s hair, sticky underneath Lance’s fingers. Lance has bits of strawberries on his stomach, squished between their burning bodies._

 

_Slow dance with you plays._

 

_Keith actually laughs. Laughing sex is the best sex. Keith’s smile is ten times sexier than any boy Lance has ever been with. He’s breathing so hard. Limbs bent in angles. Pulse beating on their necks. Keith’s tattoos look beautiful under sunlight. Lance licks the one that says Alejandro on his clavicle. Keith moans so loud._

 

_He comes back with a kiss on Lance’s neck. Lance likes the build up. Likes to watch the curve of Keith’s biceps, arch of his spine. Keith is a blowjob beast, he just sucked Lance’s awhile ago, watched him with his unwavering gaze, see him come undone, writhing uncontrollably._

 

_Lance loves him so much, it kinda hurts. They know every single detail about each other. Communication is key and so Lance knows how to finger Keith because Keith taught him how._

 

_Sweat beads, runs down their temples and cheeks. Keith is groaning, see his toes curl. He laughs again. “You’re so good at making come, Lance.”_

 

_“Yeah, yeah, I am, right?” Lance says, kissing Keith. “I’m a crazy sex machine.”_

 

_“Oh shut up,” Keith says, playfully frowning, but snort escapes from him._

 

_And then there’s the refractory period, and then they both come, still laughing. Lance peppers Keith’s chest with kisses. They’re spooning now, Lance’s back against Keith’s chest. Hands clasped tightly together._

 

_They stay like this in an hour or so, whispering about nothing. Nothing means dead sisters, cancer, missing arms, and a prodigious child. Nothing means life._

 

_The slow life is perfect imperfect in a way. Not slow as in boring, but slow in perfect pacing. It took them awhile to have sex, but it’s worth it. Everyone has a preferred speed. They’re all cars driving in an infinite highway. In roller coasters through loops. Keith is Lance’s speed, he’s intense and complicated like tangled red strings, but it’s fun with him, amazing even. Lance loves to tangle his fingers into those strings just like carding his fingers into his dark hair._

 

_Lance could do anything for him, honestly. It’s scary, but it’s true._

 

_Has life gone full circle, he thinks, but no… Life comes differently. Life has red strings._

 

_Slow dance with you keeps playing on repeat. Lance listens and words are true. So completely true._

 

_“Slow dance with you_

_I just want to slow dance with you_

_I know all the other girls are soft and smooth_

_And I got the blues_

_I want to slow dance with you”_

 

_Lance wants to slow dance with Keith because not everything happens in terminal velocity. Dancing with breathy whispers and secret smiles is all he needs because one day the dancing will stop. Because one day one of them will be gone. One of them will die or leave or maybe watch the way the sun will bleed and make the world end. And then both of them will be gone. But no matter what happens, they’ll always love each other. As cliché and corny as that sounds. It’s damn true._

 

 _Keith whispers into Lance ears, singing the rest of the song, “Why don't you take the chance?_ _I've got the moves, I'd like to prove. I want to slow dance with you.”_

 

_“You promise?” Lance asks softly, huddling closer._

 

_“Promise what?”_

 

_“That you got the moves you wanna prove so you could slow dance with me?” Lance says, almost teasingly, but there’s vulnerability there._

 

_“Well yeah, I love you.”_

 

_“I love you too,” Lance says, turning around to bury his face into Keith’s neck. “Do you feel safe with me?”_

 

_Keith looks at him the way Lance needed to be looked at. Like he knew without even thinking. Like falling in love with someone who was perfect, only to find they were not… and just falling in love even harder._

 

_“Yeah, I always feel safe with you,” Keith says, kissing his temple._

 

_Lance pulls away, looks at Keith. There’s dark strands of hair sticking to his forehead. A smile blossoming like red morning glories. They’re just inches apart. Lance’s freckles could jump onto Keith’s cheeks. Lance’s blue eyes swallowing Keith down into the depths of an ocean._

 

_They’re foreheads bump together like a silly couple in some shitty fanfiction._

 

_Lance has his fingers on Keith’s heart. Living beneath his fingertips._

 

_“You are the love of my life," he says, settling his gaze on him. "Everything I have and everything I am is yours.”_

 

_Keith kisses Lance, slow and steady._

 

_“Forever.”_

 

_._

_._

_._

 

Lance led a simple life.

 

_._

_._

_._

 

and then he didn’t.

 

And that’s how we see it.

 

Life as we know it.

 

.

.

.

.

 

“Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.”   
― [Ralph Waldo Emerson](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/12080.Ralph_Waldo_Emerson)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, 
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH ILYSM
> 
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> 
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